The Soul Gem
by TheGreatAmazingBanana
Summary: There is a new arrival onto the chess board - Maxine St. Lewis, with the ability to speak to the dead. As the Avengers try to unravel her secrets in time to save the world, she desperately tries to keep them hidden to protect the world from an even greater threat. With no other option, the Avengers ask for some unexpected help... M for language.
1. Chapter 1

The worst possible aspect of speaking to the dead is simply that... they speak. Oftentimes a great deal. Devoid of any other possible communication, they tend to desperately pick you out in a crowd like the proverbial 'person allergic to cats.' Being 'yelled' at, in a manner that no one else can hear, is sometimes hard to ignore. This, as you can imagine, leads to intensely awkward social moments.

This happened to be one of them.

Standing over the corpse, Max crouched down and pretended to jot down notes on the clipboard she was carrying around. In reality, she was listening to the dead man hovering over her left shoulder, howling at her about the 'injustice' of it all, and that she should 'hurry, they're getting away!'

She often explained away the tight look on her face with that of nagging migraines. Her co-workers in the crime lab generally shrugged it off. She knew that at least Bill, from two desks down, suspected that she had a drug problem. It wouldn't be the first time someone made that assumption, and correctly, about those in the forensic field. Especially those that specialized in what she specialized in - the corpses.

It was rare that she was taken out of the morgue to, as her boss said, 'come play outdoors' in the actual crime scene. Not unheard of, when the crime scene was as... complicated as this one.

The dead man in question (well, his physical remains, anyway,) lay in the middle of what had been a busy New York intersection. He had, by the looks of it, made it a few steps out of his car before being gunned down. Her college degree told her it had been multiple shooters. It was her 'other gift' that told her exactly where.

_'There were three! Three - there, there, and right there. The assholes didn't - they didn't even - they killed me. I know that when I... I was desperate for the money. I didn't think. I didn't think - I guess nobody thinks - I...'_ The dead man trailed off in incoherent sobs.

"No, nobody ever does..." Max muttered back to him. "Try not to panic. This kind of thing happens all the time."

_'Don't panic?! I'm dead!'_

"And so are a great deal of other people."

"What'd you say, Max?" Bill-From-Two-Desks-Down said from the other side of the car.

"Nothing, sorry. Just... muttering about the holes in the John Doe."

"You talk to yourself too damn much, Max. We have to get out out more." Bill laughed.

Max chuckled, feigning amusement. She never did figure out who was more annoying to deal with - the living or the dead. Fifty fifty shot, she figured. "Any ID in there yet?" Max asked. She knew damn well what his name was. But she couldn't just call him that before they had 'figured it out.'

Speaking directly to the dead victim was cheating, no way around it. The where, why, how, and who, was usually screamed at her before she walked within ten feet of the dead. She aced her way through her degree on a scam - and had only opened a textbook long enough to learn the terminology. Picking up the verbiage was easy, and the rest was playing a long, delicate dance of revealing information only when you have a shred of evidence to back it up. After all, she was a _scientist_, right? Not some two-bit police psychic. She tried not to laugh under her breath.

Tucking her pen behind her ear, she picked up the camera that hung around her neck and began taking photos of the holes in the pavement where the missed shots had ricocheted off. Oh. No, that one didn't miss. That one went clear through. Huh.

_'They were on the roof. All three of them. There, there and there, I keep telling you! Why aren't you looking?! Why aren't you goddamn looking?!'_ the dead man pleaded.

She always felt the pang of regret - that she couldn't do more to comfort them in these public settings. That she couldn't stomp out and avenge their deaths. But that wasn't the way the universe worked - people who got mixed up in bad situations often met ends like these. Even then, it wasn't her place to help them. She was helping them in her own way, trying to get their stories straight.

And it was about the only way to make her 'gift' pay the bills. It was this or a carnival side show.

She sighed and resumed taking photos.

_'I don't even know what the stupid goddamn thing was, anyway! Direct orders from Fury. Get the box, bring it to Stark. Easy. Done. Done this kind of shit a million times. Why does this one have to get me killed?!'_

"Oooh, hey, Max, take a look at this," Bill piped from inside the car. He pulled out a small metal box from under the front passenger seat, the lid open. He set it down on the hood. Walking around to the front of the black Lexus, her heart sunk into the pit of her stomach.

It always found her. Or she always found it. One way or another. This time she had put six thousand miles between her and that goddamn, stupid, hideous thing, and yet... there it was, glinting in the sunlight, mocking her.

The necklace in the box appeared to be a gorgeous emerald, oval, just an inch or so in length, and cut to sparkle in the light. The stone was set into a black, twisted cage made to appear like vines. The cage looked like polished and ornate black onyx stone - she knew better.

She certainly knew better.

"Pretty," Max said dryly.

"You're the worst girl ever, do you know that?" Bill sighed. "How are we ever going to get you a husband, if you don't like girly things like necklaces. What do you picture this thing is worth? Half a million?"

She tried not to laugh. Instead, she shot him a dry smile. "You have to stop trying to set me up with people, Bill. You really do. It's not going to go well. And, at least we know why this guy died, now."

"Yeah, but why didn't they come take it from him? Whoever wanted it?"

"Don't know..." Max turned and looked around the block. _ 'Because it didn't want them to,'_ she thought to herself. She tried to follow her earlier advice to the dead man, and not to panic. She'd had this thing come back to her - or her to it - before, with relatively little trouble. She could deal with this before it got ugly. Maybe excuse herself for being ill, and then take a sudden vacation.

She frowned, pretending to study the area as she thought. She didn't want to quit her job over this - didn't want to change lives - just because this thing reared its ugly head again. She was getting comfortable, almost making friends, (well, didn't hate her co-workers, which is almost the same thing.) But she might have to.

"Too many witnesses?" Bill offered uselessly.

"Probably."

"Odd seeing as they gunned him down in the middle of the street in the middle of the day..."

"Well, they were on top of the buildings... Saw him coming in the car, and were using the high powered rifles to stop the car - and then him."

Max turned to look at Bill as he was just staring at her blankly with the hint of frustration. "And how'd you figure that out?!" Bill demanded.

Max sighed. If you're a carnival psychic, no one believes you. If you're an impossibly talented co-worker, everyone resents you for being the Know-It-All. Bill was pretty late in his career - probably in his early 50's, and she couldn't begrudge him being angry over the late 20-something swooping in and stealing all the glory. But, he had asked. So, she would oblige. Taking a deep breath, she pointed to the thick bullet holes in the hood of the car. "The holes in the engine block, first of all... Look at the angle of the bullets. Pretty low at first, then, the angle gets steeper, as presumably the car gets closer to their positions. That means the shooters were elevated - considerably so. Then, look at the craters left by the bullets - the way they taper at the edges-"

"I get it, I get it! Jesus Christ," Bill slammed the lid down on the box, hiding the necklace from sight. Max did her best not to sigh in relief. Turning angrily, he started to storm off towards the direction of the van they had arrived in. "Fine, at least I found this goddamn thing. I'm going to take this to the boss and see what he makes of-" Bill pulled up short. "-it. Jeeeeesus..."

Max looked up, and resisted the urge to run. She knew trouble when she saw it - and this - this was trouble. Here came their boss, Trevor McEldowney, followed closely by an imposing man, dark skin, full length black trench coat and - a goddamn eye patch. The sudden feeling of nervousness was quickly replaced by the distinct desire to snicker. He had to be doing that on purpose - dressing to 'impress.' Well, whatever worked for him.

"You all got here pretty damn quick for a forensics team," the man narrowed his one eye at her boss. The man sounded angry. Then again, he sounded like he was always angry. Two people, a man and a woman, followed close behind him - both in black, their demeanor screaming of Important Federal Agents.

_'Director Fury! Director Fury! Agent Hill - I - please - please listen to me! Help me! You can do something about this, you can - help me! Fury! Please!'_ the dead man railed, flailing his arms madly and dropping to his knees in front of whom were now made apparent as his commanding officers. Fury took a step straight through him, continuing towards the cars. The dead man collapsed to the floor, sobbing again. She knew how hopeless he must feel - unable to talk to them - unable to reach out to them - but there was nothing she could do. It wasn't her place.

"That strikes me as pretty damn strange, seeing as we didn't receive a call. Hell, we had to see this on the goddamn cable news! Who do _you_ know that _we_ don't?!" Director Fury continued, stopping to turn to glare at Trevor, who looked like he wanted to sink into the tarmac and leak into the water system to escape.

"Uh.. uh... uh..." was all Trevor could spout.

Max narrowed her eyes for a moment at the scene. That was pretty strange - these were some high-end federal agents, and the police had arrived, taped it off, made their calls... then, forensics had time to arrive, set up, and begin working before these federal agents had even been notified that something was wrong.

She had been so intent on trying to wrap her head around why that could possibly have happened when she realized she had been staring at 'Director Fury.' And now he was staring right back. She blinked, coughed, and quickly looked down at her clipboard.

"Never seen a man in an eyepatch? You know it's rude to stare," Fury clipped angrily. Max tried not to laugh, but couldn't help but let a smirk play across her face briefly.

"No, Sir, that isn't it. I was merely trying to understand why we were notified first, is all. I agree it's bizarre."

"Hrm," Fury muttered, and looked back to Trevor. "Well, since you people are here, you might as well make yourselves useful. Tell me what you've discovered."

"Uh. Well. I just. Got here, actually," Trevor stammered, and weakly held up a Subway bag. "I was on lunch, and-"

"Okay, then, who_ was_ here?!" Fury impatiently snapped.

"They - they were - Bill and - Maxine-" Trevor pointed, uselessly stuttering, a wide-eyed expression of fear across his face.

"Good, well, thank you. Why don't you go eat your damn sandwich and let me talk to your people." Trevor backed away, before awkwardly turning and nearly tripping over his legs as he ran towards the van. Max had to bite down her lip to keep from laughing.

"You think this is all terribly funny."

It took a beat before Max realized he was talking to her. She looked up again, meeting eye contact. "That particular moment was, yes, Sir."

"I have a man down, and you think it's funny." Fury walked up to her slowly, trying to intimidate her. Unfortunately, it didn't work - not because he wasn't doing a damn good job of it, but... well, Max just didn't intimidate easy. The living are much less frightening than the dead can be.

"I see a lot of death, Sir. If you let every one break your heart, you don't last in this business." If he only knew how deep that statement ran.

"What's your name?"

"Maxine St. Lewis, Sir." Movement caught her eye - Bill was now standing next to the other two agents, yammering about the scene and the box. The female agent - who the dead man had referenced as Hill - took the box containing the necklace from him. Good. She couldn't imagine dealing with Bill having that damn thing. Although, federal agents could mean a great deal of trouble for her...

"Mmhm. And you aren't going to ask for my identification? Just going to let me come right on in here to your crime scene..."

Max shrugged and looked back up to Director Fury. "Well, I figured the way you scared Trevor, you probably had told him who you were. And honestly, not my place to care. I just document the scenes and try and figure out what happened here."

"And what exactly happened here, Ms. St. Lewis?"

Max put down her clip board on the hood of the car and took half a step back. Taking a breath, she began. "Your man, there, was shot four times through the chest and once through the neck with a high powered, long range rifles. The rifles were a high enough caliber to go through the engine block of the car, here-" she pointed. "The bullets through the car wouldn't have done anything to stop him in any short order, but it was enough to scare him into stopping the vehicle. He tried to make a run for it, and well... there he is."

"How many shooters?"

"Three by my count." She was staring to get caught up in it.

"Where?"

"There," she pointed again, "there, and there." She looked over at Fury, who was looking at her with his one eye narrowed again, and too late realized her potential mistake. "Uh... Give or take. Judging by the angle of the ricochet marks in the pavement and the holes through the engine block. I... I guess those areas make the most sense, but... I doubt that the wounds through your man will be of any use to establish location as the caliber that is required to go through metal and steel uh... makes... for a mess... in.."

"I get it, St. Lewis. I get it. You're pretty good, aren't you."

Max shrugged lightly, but was swearing internally. She had shown off. She couldn't help it sometimes - it honestly got away from her sometimes. And when you 'know something' it is very hard to pretend you 'don't know something.' At least she hoped he would just simply write it off as 'genius' and not something else.

"It'd take my team a day to come up with those answers. And you figured it out in... half an hour. Why do you figure that is?"

_Fuck, fuck, fuck-_ "I can't speak for your team, Sir. I've never met them." Years of practice keeping a straight face were coming in handy.

Director Fury snorted, and started to open his mouth, when the brunette agent jogged up to him.

"Sir! The box and contents are here. I've questioned the other man here, but he doesn't seem to know anything useful. Babbled something about 'the shooters were on the roof' but couldn't back up how he knew that." Agent Hill interrupted, handing the metal box to Fury.

Thank god for interruptions. She started to back away, trying to use this moment to cover her escape.

"Do you know anything about this, Ms. St. Lewis?" Fury opened up the box and stared at the necklace for a moment before reaching in, picking it up, and letting the stone dangle from his fingers. The green stone almost seemed to glow in the light.

"No." Max lied. God, that was a lie for the ages. She hoped it stuck. "Bill found it, not me."

"But you've never heard of it before."

"No, Sir. Looks like a pretty expensive necklace if you ask me."

"I suppose it does." Fury put the stone back into the box and shut the lid, tucking it under his arm. He turned his back and began walking away. Max let out a long breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. Good. Take the stone away from her - not like you know what to do with it anyway.

"Inform Stark that we'll be en route to his tower, with guests."

"Guests, Sir?" Hill responded.

"Yes. Oh. St. Lewis," Fury said, turning around sharply. Max froze in her tracks. Damn it all. "You wouldn't mind coming along to answer a few questions, would you?"

Max stopped, and turned to look at him and sighed. "Just to clarify my current situation, Sir, I am just confirming that I don't really have a choice in whether or not I come with you to answer your questions, do I?'

Fury smirked. "No, I don't suppose you do."


	2. Chapter 2

At least the drinks were good.

Of course, she was served this drink by Tony Stark, the man himself, so of course it was good. She tapped her fingers against the glass nervously, sipping the rum and coke, hoping it would help calm her nerves. She smiled faintly at Stark in gratitude.

"Hope you like. I'm not much of a rum fan myself, so I don't tend to stock a range," Tony smiled that 'magazine cover' smile. Max chuckled, and shook her head - the man had a liquor cabinet to shame most nightclubs.

"It's great, and very much needed, thank you, Mr. Stark."

"Tony, please."

"Tony," Max corrected, her faint smile blooming to a sincere one. There was mischief - and sadness - in this man's eyes. She was instantly fond of him. She figured most people were.

"Can we get back to the matter at hand?" Fury snapped at Tony. "We have a schedule to keep."

"So, let me just get this straight," Tony started, turning to Fury. "First, you get one of my drivers _shot down_-"

"He wasn't _your_ driver, Stark, he was on S.H.I.E.L.D payroll."

"Spying on me again? I thought we were over this after New York-"

"Keeping tabs, Stark. That's all."

"Whatever. Okay, so _our_ driver gets gunned down in the street. Then, you cart a _different_ corpse into my R&D medical lab, and then you haul this chick in off the street - no offence - to - what, exactly? Now, I consider myself a gracious host, but... what the hell, Fury."

Fury sighed. "The corpse in your medical lab is connected to the incident last that occurred twenty-six hours ago with the security breach and the disappearance of the stone. Ms. St. Lewis here is with NYPD forensics unit, and responded to the scene where Agent Morell was gunned down. She seems... quick. I want her opinion on this."

Max clenched her jaw. This was all too convenient - premeditated. The 'stone' shows up, Fury shows up, Fury drags her off... Something else was going on. The stone could warp people's minds - she knew that - but Fury had barely been in its presence long enough to have that kind of effect...

"Something smells bad to you, too, huh, Ms. St. Lewis."

Max looked up at Tony, who was focused on her, clearly trying to figure her out. She smirked sarcastically back at him. "Max."

"Max." He paused, waiting for her to continue. When she didn't, he clearly didn't feel the need to push. He huffed, and sipped his own drink. "Nice. Well. Let's take you to see our corpse, huh?"

"Day in the life," Max muttered as she followed Tony down the hallway.

"How do you do the whole... corpses thing, anyway? I couldn't do it. I mean... they're... dead. They smell funny, they leak goop everywhere, they're all cold and clammy and-"

"They're quiet," Fury interjected.

"I know! Where's the fun in that?" Tony whirled around, walking backwards, and smiled his 'this is why I'm a ladies man' smile at Max. "I can't stand the quiet ones... Of course, most don't stay quiet around me."

Max chuckled, bemused, and shook her head. "I can't imagine why..."

"Oh, well, you now, when-"

"Stark," Fury cut him off again, glaring a hole into the other man. Tony just simply grinned, continuing to walk backwards.

"You know, you're awfully calm for being borderline abducted," Tony asked her, his flirtiness vanishing as quickly as it arrived.

"I didn't exactly fuss," she shrugged again, sipping her drink. "I heard where they were going, and put together fairly quickly that this is the team responsible for the response to the New York attack... I... didn't think I was in any real imminent danger. And besides, he did ask nicely."

"Fair enough. Alright, then, well, you seem awfully calm for being in the presence of celebrity."

"I deal with naked, dead, goopy cold dead people every day, Tony... Living people... aren't that impressive when you see what happens to everyone, big or small, after they're done. But it is an honor to meet you," she added, seeing the look on his face.

Tony had paled two shades, and looked like he was going to be sick. He turned around, walking face-forward again, and went quiet. She didn't miss the guarded look that Fury sent her way, but she thought it best not to meet it. She decided to look back down into her drink. The drink was safer.

Tony was usually a pretty good, and quick, judge of people. It's the other half of how he made his living. He was the face of his company, after all - those who can't work a crowd and charm the pants off of anything that moved, generally just sit in a lab and invent. Tony was too good at the game to do only that. This girl struck him as odd - straight off the bat - and Fury was picking up the same vibe, why else would she be here?  
Maxine St. Lewis, as she introduced herself, was beautiful - now, Tony had a different scale of beauty to compare women to, so in his opinion she wasn't anything to write home about - but if he woke up next to that in bed, he certainly wouldn't chew his arm off. Her eyes were a bright pale grey, almost looking white in some lights. It was eerie at best. Her long brown hair fell in waves around her shoulders. Her file apparently read that she was twenty-eight. She carried herself very differently. She had a guarded, fiercely protected mannerism that he only saw in dignitaries. She barely spoke. He couldn't get a damn single emotion off of her - except that she thought he was funny. Well, that was one point in her favor.

Alright, she was a forensic scientist. Those people were weird. Those people wouldn't show emotion, but might at least gush or ooh-and-ahh over the lavish interior of his home. But she barely noticed. She was gracious - thanked him three times for the drink - her manners were impeccable. A spy? He didn't doubt Fury was thinking the same thing.

As they cleared the doors into the R&D medical lab, Tony screwed his nose up and quickly raised his glass of bourbon to his lips - the smell getting that awful acrid and cloying odor of - for lack of a better word - death - out of his nose. He hated the chemical smell, he hated everything involved in preserving the dead, and he hated death. He hated that thing on the slab, hated it being here, and hated that it was leaking onto his floor.

"Mind if I leave you two to your business?" Tony asked.

"Actually," Fury started. Tony internally swore. "I would love your opinion."

"You've had my opinion. You always have my opinion. In fact I can't recall a time where I _haven't_ offered you my opinion. Usually you tell me to shut up. This is... I think... your one chance to get rid of me, and-"

"Just stay put, will you?" Fury grumbled at him. Tony sighed and sat on a table next to the door, sipping his bourbon again.

"Ms. St. Lewis," Fury began, walking up to her again. She sighed slightly, putting her drink down on the table next to her. "I want you to give me your opinion on this man," he said as he pulled the sheet off of the cadaver in the center of the room. Tony made a noise from the wall, and stealing a glance at him, he had downed his bourbon. She almost felt bad for him.

"My professional opinion," Max clarified.

"Yes. Take a look at him, and tell me what you think."

Max wondered if he always spoke to people like he thought they were children. She decided not to push the matter. She did hope to walk away from today. "May I ask why exactly? I am... not refusing, but I am curious as to your motivation to bring me here," she asked quietly. She kicked herself again for being too formal. It was a hard habit to break. "Y'know, just wondering," she added, and kicked herself again for sounding too forced. Damn it all.

"Well," Fury started. "Our team is at a loss as to what caused his death. You seem gifted. I wanted to see what you think."

_'Lies, lies and more lies...'_ She thought to herself. Like being hit in the face, she couldn't help but grunt as pain flooded her system. She pinched the bridge of her nose as a presence flooded her mind - no - multiple presences. Fury had many.. many souls attached to him - all dangling around him like strings - she had just accidently 'touched' one, almost pulling the soul back from wherever it was. No. She struggled to silence the onslaught of information as she saw the faces of those Fury had killed, or those who had served him and died. God - there were hundreds.

"Are you alright?" Fury asked, furrowing his brow.

"Yes, yes, sorry. I'm fine," she pushed them all away, the distraction giving her the motivation she needed to cram them into a corner. She rubbed the back of her neck as she quieted the growing crowd. "I get headaches - I woke up with a nasty migraine this morning. Nothing I can't handle, I apologize."

"Mmh," Fury mumbled. She wanted to laugh - her lie was almost as bad as his.

Should she disappoint? Should she look at this corpse and tell him nothing... tell him useless drivel... or should she help him. She felt her jaw twitch as she battled with the decision - lie, or not.

"I'll pay you quite well for any help you can give me," Fury added, seeing her hesitation.

Damn. Max let the uncertainty show on her face - why not, he could see it already - for the first time letting her facade crack, if only in this moment. Money was helpful - money was something that was always needed, no matter who you were. She sighed... she did need the help... Especially since she'd have to disappear now, change location and go somewhere else.

She walked up to the man on the table, and put her hand on the man's arm and let it happen.

And it all flooded back. Well... 'back' is the wrong word - it was never hers - but now it was. This man's memories, this man's thoughts - dredged back from the beyond. There he was himself - standing at the periphery, and she knew how he died.

"This, here," she started, and touched the skin by the center of his chest. There was a burn mark in the shape of tangled vines - the shape she knew quite well. "This is an obvious mark - it's... the necklace, it seared his skin somehow."

"Yes," was all Fury added.

She took a breath, and sighed. She'd have to take them 'for the ride' wherever she went - explain herself - lest they think she had conjured information, which, for all intents and purposes, she had. "Alright. So, you two are with Avengers. You're Director Fury... so... I can go out on a limb here - with aliens, and... technology and all... and say that he tried to... That stone must be something special - something powerful - and he tried to use it."

"Yes," Fury confirmed, giving away nothing else.

She took another breath, and now went about pretending to examine the body - checking under fingernails, checking all the obvious points. It was such a horrible waste of time. "No other obvious injuries, no... bruising, no broken bones or wounds..." she felt around behind his head, killing time. "And no trauma. It was the necklace that killed him."

Fury narrowed his eye and tilted his head to the side slightly. "You missed something," he said, with disbelief in his voice.

That wasn't possible - she never missed anything. It wasn't possible. She saw it, clear as day.

"No, I haven't. This man died when the necklace took - when it killed him," she replied insistently.

"You. Missed. Something," Fury reiterated, moving so that they stood on opposite sides of the corpse, the table between them.

Max shook her head, looking down at the body, frustrated. If she had one pet peeve, it was when people tried to correct her on what she knew. And this, she knew.

She put her hand on the man's chest again, and played the scene over in her head once more.

_'You are the one. No one else can see it, but I can... come, take me, and we will rule together. I will unlock your true fate.'_

_The necklace was full of lies - it knew you, could see straight through you to the core - it was the Soul Gem after all. It pulls your strings, one by one, until you collapsed under its weight. Until you give in. Until you believe its lies. And Walter was no different._

_A low-ranking S.H.I.E.L.D agent, in his eyes, was nothing more than cannon fodder. Surrounded by gods, demi-gods and superheroes, what was a normal human to any of them? A paycheck and a badge number, that's all. _

_But maybe this was his chance - this was Walter's moment to shine. After all, new superheroes were being made by the day. And if Steve Rogers could be made with a stupid serum, why couldn't Walter Johnson - that was a good american name too - be made with a necklace? The stupid thing was just sitting in storage anyway. Nobody else saw its potential - nobody else saw _his_ potential - except the stone. _

_They were meant for each other._

_Stealing it was easy..._

_Wearing it was easy..._

_But then it..._

_No. Oh God, why?!_

_Why?!_

And it went blank from there. Max knew what had happened - the stone had ripped Walter's soul from his body, leaving him -

Oh.

Max sighed, and began chewing on her lower lip.

"You know, even a basic medical student would have caught the dart gun indentation in his shoulder, here," Fury stated, moving the dead man's shoulder to reveal the indentation. Fury looked at her, and she knew he clearly saw the moment the revelation played across her face. Damn it. Damn it all to hell. She had underestimated him, and paid the price. "But you didn't even look. He died after he stole the necklace - we took him down quietly with a poison dart, after all he was in a public place."

"It's been a long day," Max said quietly, trying to excuse her glaring error. She hadn't even tried to check both sides of the body before she declared her opinion. She was such an idiot.

"Of course it has," Fury responded. "I suppose I shouldn't have been so easily impressed with your deductive skills. I suppose it would be too much to ask from a _normal human_ for you to know exactly how he died so quickly..."

Max felt the weight lift off her shoulders. Oh, thank god. He just thought she was a fraud. Or lucky. Please, let him just think she was horrible at her job and let her go on her way.

"Of course, I suppose that depends on your definition of 'died...'"

Max felt her stomach sink. She looked up across the table and met his stare.

"I would wager that you have a different definition of the point of death, don't you. Ms. St. Lewis.."

"I don't-"

"-know what I'm talking about?" He finished. "Please. That line - that sentence - is the biggest giveaway in espionage history. 'I don't know what you're talking about,'" he mocked. "You know the point his soul left his body, not the moment his body stopped moving. Most of the time it's exactly the same, isn't it. But not here. This time, his body stopped moving a good six hours after his soul had taken a hike," Fury snapped. "And you know exactly what's going on here, so don't you dare play me like a fool." Fury slammed his fist down on the metal table, causing the surgical implements to rattle. She swallowed despite herself.

"Then," Max said quietly, "Why don't you tell me exactly what you know, so I don't... continue to embarrass myself."

"Maxine St. Lewis - probably the worst professional forensic scientist to ever grace the profession - worst knowledge of the field - and yet, by far, with the best 'closed case' ratio in the nation. S.H.I.E.L.D has been watching you for some time - keeping tabs - and now it's been confirmed in my eyes. You talk to the dead."

"That's absurd. Nobody can-"

"Ah - don't start again."

Max walked away from the table, and took a shuddering breath. She looked to Tony, still sitting by the door - why, she didn't know - for help, maybe? Tony was looking at her with a combination of shock and pity. The pity surprised her. Picking up the glass of rum and coke where she had left it, she downed its contents and placed the empty glass down. "Thanks again for the drink, Tony..."

"No problem," he replied pensively.

"Can you, or can you not, communicate with the deceased." Fury brought her attention back aground.

"It's not so simple as that, Director Fury..."

"Nothing ever is."

She looked back at him with a strained expression. "You don't know what you've done..."

Fury smirked. "I rarely do. Works out mostly for the best in the end."

"I hope this time you're right." Max gripped the edge of the table next to her. "What now..?" she asked furtively.

"Welcome aboard."


	3. Chapter 3

Max's new hobby, at least for the past two hours anyway, was to try and keep herself from laughing. The whole situation seemed to have transcended straight into absurdity in the past hour and a half. She had never flown in a helicopter before - and she tried to enjoy the experience for what it was, and not focus on her current company or destination.

As they had landed on the deck of the gigantic aircraft carrier, a very excited agent (he had said his name, she missed it over the noise of the helicopter's blades) explained to her that the ship could actually _fly,_ but that the ship was currently less impressive, in his personal opinion, since it was currently only in the nice young man had mistaken her expression for disbelief in the ship's ability to fly - no - the disbelief was because she had a hard time any one would _want_ to make something this big go airborne. It seemed like a very, very bad idea.

She walked across the deck, a few steps behind Director Fury, as several agents (one was the woman she recognized from earlier, Max thought she remembered her name was Hill,) bustled up to the imposing man with questions, papers to sign, etcetera. Fury hadn't spoken to her since they had left Stark's building, and she wasn't one to press for unwanted conversation.

Max looked up and saw a streak of light as Iron Man flew overhead - she saw him land some distance away, and walk into the interior of the ship. Another incredulous thing - her having met, and now witness, the famous Iron Man at work.

"Ms. St. Lewis," a female voice startled her out of her thoughts. She hadn't seen the woman walk up to her. She instantly had a suspicion she knew why. She smiled at the gorgeous redhead - and the redhead smiled back - a smile that never reached her eyes. The woman screamed 'dangerous,' even as relaxed as she seemed at the moment. Without even looking, the sheer number of strings she had attached to her - the lines to the dead that kept their connection to her - swarmed Max's mind, and she had to shake it loose. She was going to have a very large problem around these people, she decided - they all had a lot of lives on their hands. One wrong tug, and she'd be overwhelmed.

"Ms. St. Lewis? I'm Natasha Romanov, Fury wants me to take you to the conference room." the woman asked again, confusion crossing her face at Max's delayed response. Max winced - she had just been staring off into space without responding.

"I'm sorry, it's been a long day. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Pleasure. If you'll follow me, please."

_Not like I have anything better to do._ Max thought, and followed her, faintly smiling. She did her best to keep her mind to herself - to keep herself from reaching out and touching the strings attached to everyone around her. It suddenly became amusing, though, as she discovered that there was an almost direct correlation to an agent's rank. The more dead, the more 'strings,' the more bars on the uniform. And these were the 'good guys'? Although, she asked herself, in what military organization is that really never the case?

Max sighed despite herself.

"Something wrong, Ms. St. Lewis?" Natasha asked, turning her head to look back at her.

Max met her calculating gaze and smiled lightly again. There was no telling how much she knew, or didn't know. "No, sorry."

Natasha didn't prompt any further as they walked into what was likely a conference room - the large oval table in the center was topped in black glass, and monitors dotted three walls, the forth wall entirely glass windows.

Max was actually surprised to see that they weren't alone - Stark was already sitting in one of the chairs, glass in hand. Well, he certainly worked quickly. Another man sat next to him - an older gentleman with a friendly face, greying hair and glasses. He glanced her way, shyly smiled, then went back to look at the folder in his hands nervously. Natasha left her side to walk around the left side of the table and take a seat next to another man with a hardened face - the same guarded expression that Natasha shared.

Max tapped her fingers on her thigh, her nerves starting to get the better of her. The man sitting next to Natasha was unabashedly staring at her, but for what reason, she couldn't guess. As she was about to open her mouth to ask whether or not she should sit, a familiar voice from behind her answered the question for her.

"Sit, please, Ms. St. Lewis," Fury said as he entered the room from behind her, and walked around to the opposite end of the table from the door. She sat down as he did, and leaned back in her chair, and waited. Fury met her gaze, and let the moment hang quietly in the room. "Just so you're aware, everyone here has seen a copy of your file."

"Except myself, it seems. May I?" Max asked, looking to the file he had placed on the glass tabletop in front of him. "You have me at the disadvantage. And while I'm sure that's intentional, it's... not a great way to begin."

Fury sighed, and slid the file across the glass to her. Max took it, and flipped it open. Sure enough - there were several printed photos of her, caught on what looked like security cameras or caught on the sly by some agent or another. She chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Fury asked.

"This is. It's just out of a bad spy movie, is all. Kind of silly to find myself in someone's file... I'm hardly this important. I'm not worth noticing."

"You have a unique ability. I would call that worth noticing."

Max flipped through the pages. Their records only went back about ten years - her graduate degree, and her position with the NYPD forensics team. They made note of referencing that there was no record of her before that. Great. So they knew she jumped lives - but, they didn't seem to know where she jumped _from._ Or, Fury was playing that card close to the chest. It was probably a fifty/fifty shot on that one. Finding herself on the last page of her own file, she closed it, and slid it back.

"Okay, so... you noticed. Now what?" she asked, letting him play his cards first.

"I want to get a few things out of the way before we get to real business," Fury shifted in his chair, leaning forward. "One, you aren't denying that you have the ability to speak to the dead."

"You seem convinced."

"Right now, I'm the only one in the room who _is." _Fury grumbled, and leaned back again, turning to glare at Stark and the others. "Doesn't seem like a room full of super-humans and trained assassins, who've seen aliens and magic and demi-gods, wants to believe you can talk to the dead."

Max shrugged, and said nothing.

"Does that bother you?" Fury looked back at her.

"It's easiest for me when people write me off as a fraud - or delusional. I really don't care. I'm not in the business of making myself known or convincing people. In fact, the opposite."

"So I suppose asking you for a demonstration is out of line, Cleo?" Stark piped up from where he sat. She turned to look at him and kept her expression blank. "I mean, c'mon, wiggle your fingers, and tell me something about my great-great-uncle that you couldn't know. Or tell me how my father always secretly loved me," he snorted.

"Mr. Stark," Max began quietly, her tone pleading with him to stop.

"C'mon, I bet you're a regular John Edwards. We're all so curious - hell - I'll even go so far as to say we're all _dying _to see what you can do."

Max sighed and shut her eyes, shaking her head. She had heard it all before. It didn't upset her, it just saddened her to think that Tony was quick to strike out. She had liked him. But, something about her ability bothered him deeply - there was no other reason he'd be so aggressive. She waited to see if anyone else in the room would speak up, but Fury seemed content to watch her reaction. Fine. She sighed, and kept her voice even as she responded to Stark. "I have long since learned never to offer information where it isn't wanted, and only to answer questions that have been asked," she said quietly, but firmly. She struggled to keep a familiar formal edge out of her voice - it was hard. "And it is probably best if I don't go about attempting to 'prove myself,' it tends to... wreak havoc."

"I wouldn't talk about your 'secret power wreaking havoc' here, toots - we have the resident expert here," Tony quipped, pointing at the man sitting to his right. The gentleman in question looked up, apparently startled to have suddenly been involved in the conversation.

She smiled faintly. So that's who he was. "I would never pretend that my 'havoc' is anywhere as spectacular as Doctor Banner's, but... Again, I have no desire, nor need, to go about proving myself to any of you. I have no more desire to go sifting through your personal secrets any more than you want them aired out in a public venue."

"Doesn't matter though, does it Fury? In about forty-five minutes we'll all know whether or not she's legit," Stark smirked at her - the smirk wasn't kind. In fact, she realized he was both daring her, and flaunting his superiority. That struck a chord - that she wanted to defeat. She had dealt with egos far broader, and far more deserved in her time than Mr. Tony Stark, and she would like to put a single chink in the unflappable man's armor.

Max kept her express blank as she returned his stare, and then slowly let a cold, small smile cross her features. She decided then to have a little fun. She kept her voice low as she spoke. "You are afraid of death, Mr. Stark. It's written plainly on you - you fear death in all its forms... like the cadaver in your lab - and now your instant distaste of me for what Fury claims I can do - you hate to be reminded that some day, potentially very, very soon... you will die. It is easier to be defiant than afraid. Write off your fear as inexplicable dislike for an unproven fraud if you must, but it is fear, clear as day."

Tony's smirk faded, but he didn't break eye contact. She hadn't won, but she had at least taken the joy out of his game. Still challenging her, only now angry, Tony leaned forward as he spoke, "And who told you that? What secret spirit from the beyond gave you that little nugget."

"I didn't need anyone to tell me."

Tony opened his mouth, about to angrily retort, but was never given the opportunity.

"Can we get back to business at hand, please?!" Fury snapped, slapping his palm on the table.

Glad to have been interrupted, she looked back at Fury and leaned back in her chair again. Fury continued. "Now, what do you know about the stone we confiscated from the crime scene?"

"Nothing," she replied simply.

"That's a blatant lie," Fury narrowed his one good eye at her.

She shrugged.

"I find it really hard to believe that here I was, ready to bring you in anyway, and then the day I'm about to send a car to you, you just _show up_ at the crime scene investing the murder of one of my agents - an incident that I hadn't been informed of until _after_ 'New York's finest' had shown up to the job."

"That's just as bizarre to me as it is to you, Director Fury," Max shook her head. "I don't know who told the NYPD before you were notified. I don't know why."

"But then, that's not even the weirdest part. Tell me exactly why I find the only reported confirmed case of someone with the ability to communicate with the dead - showing up right next to the goddamn _soul gem?!"_

"Is that what we're calling it now?" Tony snorted. "Who came up with that?"

Fury continued unabated. "So you're going to tell me that it's just coincidence that you, who can speak to the dead, show up first to a crime scene that I wasn't notified about, who just happens to have in his possession an ancient and powerful artifact which can rip souls out of people's bodies and turn them into mindless zombies?!"

_'So that's honestly what you think it does...'_ Max thought to herself as Fury raged. She wondered if his anger was a show, or if he had actually given away more than he had intended.

"I guess I am," she replied.

"That's the biggest load of horse shit I've heard in a long time, Ms. St. Lewis," Fury said, still glaring a hole through her head.

She gave him nothing. Neither confirming that she was lying, nor denying that he was correct in thinking she was. Better make it clear that he should move on, or risk wasting more time. "Regardless, is there something else you wanted to discuss, Dr. Fury?"

Fury slammed his hand angrily down on the table again and leaned back. He sighed, and took a moment to calm down. "Yes, there is. I would like to hire you, for a considerable consulting fee, to use your gifts and pry some information out of a man who has been otherwise unresponsive to interrogation techniques."

Max blinked, and then shrugged. "I have never done that specific task before, but... I don't see why not, for the right price."

"Does the subject have to be willing?"

"Not at all." Max shook her head. "They don't even need to be made aware of what's happening. The conversations I have aren't with the living..."

"This is such bullshit," Tony muttered. Doctor Banner muttered something quietly to him, and Tony sighed angrily.

Max and Fury both decided to ignore him. Fury sighed and slid another folder across the table to her. She took it slowly, now wondering what she was getting herself into. "Good. Because your new 'client' isn't going to be anywhere near willing."

Max opened up the folder and felt her heart sink for the second time in a day. There, written above the photo -

_Loki _


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes: **And he finally arrives to the scene. ;) This one's a longer one, for that reason. (And I'm making up the Jotun language - sorry if this is written somewhere, this just seemed simpler.)

* * *

"Okay, I gotta ask... What's the chair for?"

Max looked down at the simple metal folding chair in her hands. She smiled faintly up at Fury. "I'm going to need somewhere to sit," she replied simply, manner-of fact. "Lest I wind up on the floor."

"Ah."

Max turned her attention through the simple viewing glass into the cell block that contained her 'client.' The room they stood in looked into another small room, separated from Loki by another pane of glass. It was designed for interrogation - but - as she had pointed out to a very confused agent - lacked anywhere to sit. 'I guess nobody wants to be in there that long,' the agent had muttered as he had brought her the folding chair.

Max turned her attention to the man in the cell. He sat on a bench, head against the wall, eyes shut - either out of sleep or boredom - she placed her guess on the latter. His dark black hair was slicked back away from his face. His garb was simple - he was a prisoner after all - and heavy, decorative manacles hung from his wrists, connected in the center by a thick chain. She didn't need to ask if they were enchanted or not - what else could hold back a god.

She sighed.

"Nervous?" Fury smirked.

"I suppose. ... This is going to take a lot out of me, you know..."

"We'll pay you well."

"No, I mean... I may lose consciousness."

"Oh," Fury replied, and shrugged. "We'll pay you well, _and_ carry you out of there, free of charge."

Max laughed.

"Y'know, you're pretty when you laugh," Fury remarked casually. "You should try it more often. You're too stoic."

"Kettle, pot."

Fury looked at her, a serious look on his face, although there was humor glittering in his one eye. "Are you makin' a black joke at me?"

Max blinked, and then grinned. "Oh, I walked straight into that one, didn't I."

"Yeah, and you're the psychic, you should've seen it coming," Fury said with a matching grin as he turned and walked away.

"I'm not a psychic-" she called after him. "Lord knows I'd get into less trouble if I was."

And now she was alone with her folding chair, and the door into the interrogation anti-chamber. She sighed again, and ran over in her head her objective. They had better pay her _really _well for what she was about to endure. And the danger she was about to put herself in. She was about to go play a game of chess with the master of lies.

No time like the present.

Opening the door, she walked into the little anti-chamber, and did her best to ignore the man sitting by the wall on the other end of the thick pane of glass. Setting up her chair by the wall, she sat down, and not even sparing him a glance, shut her eyes and went to work.

* * *

Loki's life was a downward spiral of adding insult to injury, it seemed. Falling from the Bifrost into the void, his loss in the battle of New York a year (or so the Midgardian's told him,) ago, imprisonment in Asgard, and then, being dragged back to Midgard, where he now sat. While Asgard had its own form of interrogation, Midgard had it's own unique 'spin' on extracting information. And they were not so loathe to avoid physical violence - for he was not their prince and rightful King. He should be their King, but that was a matter notwithstanding at the current moment.

His quiet meditation was interrupted when he heard the door to the small chamber outside his only window open and shut. He waited for someone to speak - the gruff voice of Nick Fury, or the taunting promises of violence by Barton or Romanov. Neither came. Just silence. He opened his eyes, and saw a new face he had not seen before.

She carried herself with the posture of a woman of court - but she was not of Asgard, he could tell that quickly. She had fair skin, a moderate frame, and was dressed in a simple dark blue button down shirt and black slacks. Tasteful, unexceptional. While she did not look his way, he was instantly intrigued by the odd color of her eyes which he briefly glimpsed - they seemed almost white from where he sat. She was setting up a small folding metal chair, and seemed otherwise content to ignore him. He watched as she sat down, leaned her head against the wall, almost mirroring his own pose, and shut her pale grey eyes.

And did nothing.

For quite some time.

She just sat there.

Loki narrowed his eyes. What new manner of game was this? Was he supposed to reach out to her and be the first to speak? He was a god - one who had now suffered between the endless void and imprisonment - and they thought they could wait him out. He sneered at their arrogance. Mortals know nothing of the meaning of patience. Very well, they wish to play at the 'waiting game,' he would defeat them there, as well. His secrets were his alone to keep - and no amount of word games, violence, or now their new ploy of silence - would give him cause to speak.

Loki shut his eyes, and went back to his previously interrupted train of thought.

* * *

Normally, sensing the dead that 'lay claim' to the living - those that died either because of, or for, another person was like touching a spiderweb. Barely there - just a ghost of a sensation. A few times before in her life she had tried to explain to others what it felt like. The best way she could describe it was like a single thread of spider's silk - reaching out with her mind and touching it, using that thin line to communicate with whomever (and sometimes whatever) it connected to. Normally, there would be at most a few dozen strands connecting a living soul to the dead. Not this time. Not with him.

It was like walking through a cornfield.

At first the sheer quantity of the dead - it was understandable, the man was over two thousand years old - was overwhelming. It took all of strength and will just to straighten everything out. At first it was just a garbled mess of voices and images. Trying to tune out so many voices all at once and just focus on one was going to give her a migraine before all was said and done.

When she had walked in, and reached out towards him, she grabbed the first string she found. The man in question was a young soldier for S.H.I.E.L.D., one who had died at Loki's hands during the battle on the same ship that they now sat. He was angry, bitter, and passionate about how he still wished he could repay Loki's violence. She winced as she was shown the moment of his death - the metal spear on the end of a glowing staff being driven maliciously through his heart. The look on Loki's face was that of pleasure - the god enjoyed his kill. She swallowed hard, reflexively as she felt the feeling of the metal blade grind against the ribs of the dead man she was 'speaking' to. She winced again as she felt the blade being yanked back out of 'her' chest. Memories that were once his, were now hers.

She pushed the dead soldier away quickly, frustrated. The dead man had forced that memory on her - wanting her to share his pain and rage. She usually could control what the dead pushed on her, but this time she was too overwhelmed with the crowd to keep the unwanted memory at bay. Luckily, the vividness of the memories would fade in time, leaving only the knowledge behind. But she had a feeling that she would be bombarded with many, many more pieces of shrapnel like this over the course of her 'session.'

Enough of this - she was here to find information, and she was going to find it. There was a strong potential that her plan would backfire - that succeeding in what Fury wanted from her would only get her into more trouble. But she tried to take Fury at his face value, that she would be paid as a consultant, and be otherwise free to go.

A familiar voice, this one in her own memory, mocked her for her naivety. Ah well - to trust is human. _'To die is the same,' _the memory answered. She sighed and went back to the task at hand. She began sifting through the rows and rows of the dead, some human, many not, trying to find one who might have the information she needed.

"I have never been known as a patient man," her thoughts were interrupted by a different voice than the ones she was listening to - a voice in the room. She opened her eyes and turned her attention to the man on the other side of the glass.

"Pardon?" she asked, unsure if it was he who had spoken. Loki's eyes were still shut, his head against the wall.

"I am not a patient man. Why are you here?" he said dryly, mirroring her action to meet her gaze.

"Pay me no mind, Sir. I need not trouble you to accomplish what I've been tasked to do."

"Oh?"

"Mmhm." And with that, she resumed her pose, shutting her eyes. She began to sift through the cornfield of the dead again, briefly touching upon every one she saw, trying to find someone who might be a promising lead - someone from the right time and on his side of the fight. A chitauri, perhaps. A few more minutes passed, before she heard Loki huff in frustration.

"What, exactly, _are_ you trying to do?"

"I'm listening."

"To what?"

"To whom," she corrected, but offered no more information.

A moment of silence as she could almost feel Loki's indignant rage from the other side of the glass. She managed to keep from smiling.

"Very well, to whom."

"Not to you."

Another ten minutes passed as she tried to find someone to speak to - someone who might know - but she was striking out at every turn. There were no chitauri here - either they had no attachments to him at death, or, another likely option - they had no souls.

"Enough!" Loki boomed, and startled her out of her thoughts. She jolted, nearly falling from her chair. Looking up, she was surprised to find him standing at the glass of his cell, manacled fists clenched.

"I... am not disturbing you."

"You are disturbing me by your very presence."

"I apologize, but it is a necessity. I cannot do what I need to from the other side of the door," she stated.

"And you have yet to explain _precisely _what that _is._"

_"_I assumed you wouldn't care, if it need not involve you," she stood up from her chair and turned to face him. Maybe there was another way to do this. They had tried to interrogate him before - but maybe she didn't need to force the information from him. "I apologize for my mistake."

* * *

Loki narrowed his eyes angrily at the woman in front of him. She stood formally, spoke formally, and there was something odd about her that struck him, more so than the color of her eyes. There was an intelligence there, as well, which intrigued him. The other idiots around were likely too superfluous in their observations to notice anything awry with the girl. Even with the manacles restraining his power, he could sense something odd about her. Potentially something useful.

He tilted his head back and straightened his shoulders. Perhaps this would be an amusing diversion, and maybe he'd win something from the exchange. Very well. Let's play.

* * *

Max watched as Loki's demeanor changed - as if he had just decided on something. She didn't know if she should be made very uncomfortable by this. He looked at her now, not with anger. That worried her. But she knew what she walking into - and now she had to play her cards extremely carefully.

"Apology accepted," Loki said, smoothly, his hands relaxing. He walked back to a bench opposite the glass where Max now stood, and sat down. "Now tell me, wh_o exactly _are you listening to?"

"That is a much better question. At the moment you had interrupted me the first time, I had just finished listening to man you stabbed through the chest aboard this ship during your attack."

Loki stared at her, lifting one eyebrow just barely. "I believe the others have called him 'Coulson.'"

"Ah, no, the other one... younger... through the chest, not the back," she said, gesturing idly towards where the blade had entered the young soldier on her own chest.

Loki's sighed, disappointed. "Ah, and you had piqued my interest for just that moment, my dear. But they send me a fraud."

"Believe what you will, Sir, I need not your faith to discover what I have come to find," Max shrugged and began to turn back towards her chair.

"And that is what, exactly?"

"Who sent you to earth with the chitauri to claim it as your own."

"I came of my own accord, with _my _army, to claim what is rightfully _mine,_" Loki angrily corrected. "I was under no orders from any other power."

"That's a lie, Loki, and a bad one," she replied.

He laughed. "Oh? A better lie than a simple Midgardian child with the impossible power to speak _to the dead. _Really, how gullible has Fury become? How desperate?"

Max took in a deep breath, and slowly let it out. And here was her trump card. She hope it stuck. "Drog al vol, axun. Vur si ornla yenta batobot si mi ti vi vrak, ith Loki Laufeyson, shar wux re grapwolic ohk loupon si, zyak coi nomag qe vi vshk tish de dout."_ 'He is desperate, yes. And I would say that I am not a child, Lord Loki Laufeyson, but you are ages older than I, so it may be a valid assessment from your view.'_

She had to allow herself a smile as Loki was now visibly shocked. She continued. "Tepoha si shux, ith di wharacic? Si geou clax persvek batobot chillien ekess sia yuidm. Coi ui vi ileai tilchi." _'Have I shocked you, Lord of Lies? I will take pride in that accomplishment to my grave. It is a rare honor.'_

"Svanoa?!" _'How?!' _Loki nearly shouted. "Svanoa tir wux rethisj wer ooble di wer civip verncini?!" _'How do you speak the tongue of the frost giants?'_

_"First, may I ask, does your brother speak Jotun?" _she replied, still in the Jotun tongue. She was clunky, she knew - the frost giant from whom she was borrowing the language was mocking her for her awful pronunciation. _"Also I have been informed that I must plead forgiveness for my unwieldy accent and my horrible grammar structure," _Max sighed, trying to appease the dead frost giant, who only laughed.

_"No... he... does not speak Jotun..." _Loki said, slowly, his hands clenched again. His eyes were still wide. _"How is this possible? No human - and barely any Aesir - speak Jotun. This is not - how?!"_

_"I believe, Lord Loki, your birth father is to thank for this," _she replied. _"You murdered him, after all. I am being... shown how to speak Jotun for the time being. The 'gift' will fade in time. I am speaking to you now in Jotun in hopes that we might speak in relative privacy. While it is possible that Fury would send this recording to Asgard to translate, it is... unlikely."_

_"You can not possibly speak to the dead. Not the distant dead - ghosts perhaps - but not like this," _Loki shook his head, stunned. He stood up, walking back to the glass to watch her.

_"And yet, here we are." _she replied. _"We cannot speak like this for long, Sir. It would raise too much attention. But I will say this. We are both pieces on a game board at this moment in time and I have no interest in making you my enemy. You will outlive the others on this ship, sans your adoptive brother, by aeons. I would rather not anger you. I will do what I can not to divulge more secrets than are necessary. I have no desire to cause you undue pain." _

Max coughed suddenly, switching back to English. "That language is harsh... Does the entire Jotun race suffer from a sore throat?"

Loki would maybe have smiled at the comment if he was not still taken aback by what she had just done.

"So I will ask you again, Sir, who sent you to this planet with an army in hopes of taking it as your own."

"No one," he replied, and changed the subject again. "I do not understand - this is not possible - you claim to be speaking to Laufey himself?! Is he here?!"

"No, he is not here..." Max sighed, and looked off, thinking of how to explain it. "I would call it a phone book to a human, but, I'm not sure how to describe it to you... It's like... calling them on the phone. I can feel everyone attached to you who is dead - those that feel you are responsible for their passing or are otherwise passionately connected to you - and I can contact them to speak to them. Well, not literally," she corrected herself. "As you saw, I don't actually... speak. I just... I receive information in flashes, images, feelings. Colors. Like memories. Currently, I _remember_ how to speak Jotun."

"You speak to the dead, even those who have... gone to different realms."

"Yes, but some fade and are gone. Only those who still feel a connection to a living soul. Like yours."

"What a dangerous gift of knowledge you have been given," Loki's shock was now waning into curiosity. Max knew this was bound to happen, and it was the price she was paying. She now had his full attention, and that was hardly a good thing.

"Now, if I might trouble you to tell me who sent you to Earth with your army - I would rather spare the migraine of sifting through your thousand dead just to find the information on my own."

"I tire of repeating myself."

Max sighed. "With all due respect, it is obvious that you are lying, Sir. You are a man of words and deceit - you aren't a soldier. You don't fight on the front lines like Thor. You work the shadows - you convince others to _give _you what you want - I doubt you've ever had to take a single thing in your life."

Loki was silent, only staring at her. She took that as a sign to continue.

"If you had come here and whispered in the ears of kings and politicians you would have had this world around your fingers in a matter of years. You certainly are brilliant, beautiful, and charismatic enough, even if you were only mortal. With the power of a god behind you, you would have been unstoppable. This world would have willingly, and unknowingly, knelt to you. But you tried to take it by violence. That, in turn, mustered the strongest force this planet had to offer in response - but why do this? Why so blatantly orchestrate these 'Avengers' together? Why, except to force a show of power? Now, whoever it was who sent you - to whom you're nothing but a pawn to be sacrificed - knows exactly what humans are capable of when under attack. And it was the plan the entire time. Your army was only scouting."

Loki sat for a long moment in silence before he spoke. "Clever words," he replied.

"A compliment coming from you, thank you," she replied.

"But I will not tell you what is coming."

"Now, I was instructed simply to come and find the 'who.' The 'why' is immaterial and as to the 'how,' well... Fury didn't ask me to find out 'how' this force plans to destroy us."

"Interesting, so you only do as you're bid?" Loki snorted. "And here I was impressed - however briefly - with your relative intelligence for a mortal."

"No, Sir. I do not only do as I am bid. I only answer the questions I am directly asked." She clasped her hands behind her back, and shrugged again dismissively.

"And why is that?"

"With all of the information at my disposal, one of the many things I don't know... is what people truly wish they had, or hadn't, asked. I refuse to inform anyone of what I know unless they are absolutely certain they really wish to hear it. If they can't even phrase a simple question in a specific manner I highly doubt they've thought through the likely outcomes long enough to be sure. Fury asked me to find out 'who,' and so, here I am, asking you for the 'who,' and nothing more."

Loki smirked. "You are a clever thing, I will give you that..."

"Again, high praise. Thank you."

"Ah, do not thank me yet, little mortal..." Max almost took a step away from the glass as a slow, predatory smile smoothed across Loki's face as he stepped up closer to the glass. "Very well... You wish to know who sent me to Midgard with my army of the chitauri...? I will tell you - but only in trade. One secret for another secret of equal value," he said, still grinning. "I will even let you choose the secret."

"And you are to judge the value of the secret offered in trade?"

"I am," he purred. "But only _after_ it is revealed."

"That is hardly fair," Max folded her arms across her chest in defiance. "I could easily give you a greater value than what you have paid me."

"Unlikely... if you and yours are without my information for much longer, this world is sacrifice."

Max chuckled. "You do not know my secrets yet, Sir. I would not discount their weight so quickly," she said softly, sadly. It was impossible to keep the informal nature of her vocabulary out of her voice when talking to a man whose verbiage matched, and actually really exceeded, her own. She found herself enjoying the game they were playing. He was a brilliant player. This was dangerous, she had to remind herself of that.

"Then we have no deal," Loki shrugged, and took a step away from the glass.

"Perhaps we do. May I suggest an amendment?"

"You may," he replied, opening his arms slightly, stretching the chain that manacled his wrists together.

"I suggest that my secrets be considered cumulative - and in exchange, you may ask whatever questions of me you like, and I will answer them truthfully. I'm sure you can tell when I'm lying."

"Yes, I can. And, your amendment is agreeable."

"And I will answer your secrets in Jotun. I am selling you my secrets - no one else."

Loki kept grinning, his voice silky and dangerous. "Oh, I would have it no other way..."

Max took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. Out of the claws of one and into the claws of another. "So... ask away."

Loki tilted his head thoughtfully_, _and switched languages back to Jotun. _"Not a secret, but I am curious. What is your name?"_

"Maxine St. Lewis," she replied. That didn't exactly translate into Jotun.

_"Ah," _Loki raised his finger. _"A lie - and a bad one - it is unfamiliar on your tongue. I thought you said you would tell me the truth?"_

_"You asked me what my name _is_. I am doing just that - telling you what my name _is - _at this point in time."_ Max smirked. _"I told you I would answer your questions as they were asked. Be more specific." _

Loki laughed, grinning wider. She seemed to be entertaining him as much as he was entertaining her. _"My mistake, my lady. Very well. What is your true given name?"_

_"It doesn't translate into Jotun, Lord Loki. If I were to tell you, the others would know it. I promise to tell you if we are ever spared the moment."_

Loki thought for a moment. _"I will know your real name, little mortal. But I will excuse you from speaking it now." _

_"I... very much appreciate that, Sir," _she replied.

_"You speak to me with respect. Why?" _Loki watched her intently. _"They all treat me with disdain. And yet you call me 'Lord' or 'Sir.' Why?"_

_"You are a god of old - you are also ancient by our standards. That deserves respect, regardless of whose side you're on. I was raised to treat others with respect until they are proven unworthy of it."_

_"Which brings me to my next question, Maxine. You speak elevated above your status - and carry yourself as such. Why?"_

_"That is no question at all, Sir," _Max chuckled again, shaking her head. _"Why do the birds fly and fish swim? It is philosophical. Perhaps I am just better read than other modern humans."_

Loki grinned wide - and Max swore, catching her mistake. Her expletive brought a chuckle from the god of lies. _"Aaah, and there it is... How old are you, Maxine?"_

_"You could ask me questions about anyone else aboard this ship, you realize. I suspect I know just about as much of Fury's secrets as I do my own. You need not ask me only questions about myself."_

_"You are much more interesting to me than those little worms. You are a challenge. And don't change the subject. My question was direct."_

_"I am twenty eight."_

_"Another lie, Maxine! I am disappointed in you... you try to cheat me at my own game," _Loki put his palm against the glass. _"When were you born to this world, Maxine?"_

_"For..." _she sighed and shut her eyes. She had agreed to this bargain. She shouldn't be a sore looser. _"I was born in eighteen fifty six. That makes me, to properly answer the intention of your previous question, one hundred and fifty seven years old. And as to why I am so formal - the boarding schools of the day tended to leave a lasting impression. This should hardly be impressive - I'm still but a child to someone like you."_

_"Yet impossible by Midgard standards. How are you kept alive?"_

Max sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose as the pain of channeling Laufey's memories for so long started to cause her vision to spot. He had worn her out, and she needed his answer in exchange. _"I will make an exception to my rule, Loki, for you have made me an exception in avoiding my speaking my real given name. You are attempting to learn who I am, are you not?"_

_"Or 'what' you are, yes," _Loki smirked. _"Do you admit defeat?" _

Max met his gaze again and smiled faintly. _"You are one of two to ever defeat me in my little game of questions, Loki. In the interest of avoiding the migraine that is settling in on me, I will... answer your question directly. What am I that makes me both immortal and able to speak to the dead, which is an impossible task for any race?"_

Loki only nodded in response.

_"I will only tell you on assumption that this is an equal secret to yours."_

Loki nodded again.

_"Very well." _Max took a long low breath. _"I am the child of Death."_


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes: **Thank you for the wonderful reviews! This isn't my first time writing, but it's my first time posting to , and thank you for the support. If any of you are massive Marvel comics fans - yes, this is the same Soul Gem and it works _mostly _the same way, but I am rewriting its context and history. Otherwise I'm sticking to what's been established in the movies so far.

Anyway, onto the goods. Enjoy!

* * *

_"That's impossible - Death cannot bring life," _Loki seemed angry, but he had gone a shade paler at her admission.

_"That's true. I was not born of death. I was created with it's assistance," _Max replied. She leaned up against the wall next to the glass of his cell, her back to the frame and a shoulder barely touching the glass. She was beginning to tire, still holding on to Laufey to borrow his language.

_"How?"_

_"I was born an infant and given to a mortal family. From a young age I had the gift to do what you're witnessing here - talking to the dead. My adopted family named me, raised me, and loved me as their own. I still miss them. I am... I digress, forgive me. I was created by powerful black magic."_

_"By whom?" _he asked, his eyes hungry for information.

_"Now now, that's another secret. I sold you a secret of equal value for the 'who.' If you want to know who created me, I'll sell that to you for the 'how' this powerful force you have yet to name plans to destroy Earth," _she said with a smile. The name of her creator was likely useless to him anyway, but better to paint it as higher value than it likely was.

Loki narrowed his eyes, and took a moment to think. _"Perhaps I will consider your bargain. But I am not ready to make the exchange at this moment."_

"Fair enough," Max replied, switching back to English, and put her hand to her head. She winced in pain.

"Are you not well?"

"Holding on to someone like your father for so long was... strenuous."

"He is not my father."

"And neither is Odin, so, here you stand, devoid of fathers." That seem to strike Loki, so she quickly changed the subject. "But thank you for your concern. I'll be fine, but, at best I will have a migraine for hours - at worst I may lose consciousness." she smirked at him playfully as she walked over to her chair and sat down, her hand still to her head.

"It was not _concern_," he retorted indignantly. "I made a bargain - and I keep my bargains. I was simply wondering if you would be unconscious for me to fulfill my end of it," he huffed.

"My mistake." He was too easy, and too much fun, to needle.

Loki sighed. "It was the Mad Titan who sent me to Earth with the chitauri to test its forces. It is the Mad Titan who works to destroy Earth now. The titan who has pledged his love to death incarnate. The lives of half the universe will be but a dozen roses he presents to her."

This put her headache on the back burner. Max stood up slowly, and turned to look at him - locking eyes. His smirk revealed that no, _he _had now made out the better for the sale. She was a fool to not think that this was all connected - of course it was. Of course she was supposed to be here at this point in time. And now he knew that she was, for all intents and purposes, the child of the creature that Thanos was obsessed with. She may have just placed herself in his pocket - he was going to use that against her. It was just a matter of when.

"You play a good game, Maxine St. Lewis," Loki said with a smile as the door opened and Fury stepped inside. "I have enjoyed speaking with you... do come back soon. You are a suitable diversion from silence."

Fury motioned for her to leave the room. She was happy to do so, and stepped out into the hallway past him. Her head was still swimming. She braced herself against the wall - the spots in her vision were beginning to swarm. That wasn't good. That wasn't good at all.

* * *

Loki couldn't help but smile as he heard the woman collapse to the floor in the hallway. Ah, she wasn't exaggerating - she did indeed faint. An impressive girl, with an impressive gift, but still so young. Her relative mastery was impressive at only a century and a half, and if she sharpened her skills, she could be a god herself.

A very useful god.

Loki watched as Fury ordered two of his agents to help the girl to the medics, before he walked back into his cell and faced him. The god of lies knew this was bound to happen - but the girl sold her secrets to him, and him alone, and he was not going to share. If there is one thing that Loki hated, it was that.

"So, the Mad Titan, huh? What'd she tell you that got you to spew your guts?" Fury glared at him.

"She made a bargain. An equal exchange - and an exchange between two parties. You were not invited," he kept the same smile on his face. Yes, manacle him, take away his powers, and put him in a human cell - but he was still superior. All he needed was words and information, and she had brought him that. "Perhaps, if you were not so boar-headed, you would have done something similar long before this... and not wasted so much of my time."

Fury sighed. "You're not going to tell me what the hell you two were doing in here, speaking in tongues, are you? Thor told me the language sounded familiar, but couldn't place it. Sure as hell wasn't a language from this planet."

"No, it was not. She is clever - and knew how to get my attention. That is all. What we spoke of us is our business, not yours. Now... if I am not mistaken, you have a great deal of work to do with the information I gave, do you not...?"

"Right, well, it's clear you're not going to be of any more _'help.'_" Fury sighed and walked towards the door. "Now, don't you go anywhere now," he finished as he slapped the door to the anti-chamber.

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it..." Loki replied in a hush tone to no one in particular. Now he certainly had a reason to stay... and he had schemes to devise. This was going to be fun indeed...

* * *

Max was unsure how much time had passed between when she had passed out and when she now found herself sitting at Fury's conference table, clutching a mug of coffee. She had her other hand pressed to her head, her elbow on the table and her eyes shut, trying to keep the pounding in the back of her head from overcoming her again. The warmth of the coffee and the aroma was helping. _'Thank the gods on high for coffee,'_ she thought to herself.

Two others were in the room with her and Fury - the God of Thunder, and Tony Stark.

"Your gift is impossible," Thor said to her, for the forth time, astonishment reading plainly on his face. If Loki was a novel written in Latin, Thor was a coloring book.

"I know," she replied, sipping her coffee. It was still a little too hot, but she needed it. "I have been told that many times."

"What language were you speaking to my brother... It sounds familiar. There is no way you could have known it..." Thor furrowed his brow at her, trying to work it out.

"One of the giants languages, I think. I don't know, I just grabbed whatever was nearby. I needed to get his attention and it worked, didn't it? Can we move on?"

"No one of any of the realms has such a gift," Thor insisted.

"And here I sit with the singular god of thunder, a genius and..." she looked at Fury. "Whatever he is. We are a room full of unique variables. Please stop hounding me on this, I cannot do anything more to convince any of you."

"Yeah, I'm still not sold," Tony interjected. "There's got to be some way you faked that. An earpiece or something."

"To whom?" Max looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't know that yet. Still figuring it out. But I'll figure it out." Tony's distaste for her was still written plainly across his face.

"You would love nothing more than to expose me as a fraud, wouldn't you?" she asked him, no hint of malice in her voice. She was actually curious.

"It'd be a personal _pleasure," _Tony responded. "I don't like fakes, or frauds, and that's all you are. Even Point Break here doesn't think you're physically possible."

"I never said-" Thor tried to interrupt, but Tony continued.

"So in my book, you've got something else going on entirely. I haven't figured it out yet. But I will. I always do."

"You have fun with that, I wish you the best in your efforts." She sighed and ran her hand back through her dark brown hair slowly. She needed sleep. The coffee was helping push her headache away, but Stark was doing his best to bring it all right back. The bright sunlight glinting through the conference room windows was painful.

"I want to know what you two were talking about when you went 'off the record,'" Fury asked, standing behind the chair across from her, his hands resting on the chair's back.

"It was private."

"You were on _my_ ship, questioning _my _prisoner, and you were doing so as part of _my_ mission. So it's _my_ information."

"What I spoke to Loki about was private. I cut a bargain with him to get you your information. I'm not going to offer up the information for free - I sold it to him for a high price. And the information was all personal to myself - I said nothing to him of anyone else's secrets or plans."

"How can I trust that?"

"I guess you can't," she replied. "And I'm sorry. But you have your information now, and I want to be paid and be allowed to go home."

"Not going to happen. Not yet anyway," Fury gripped the back of the chair harder. "You're holding back way too much information for me to let you just waltz out this door."

"So I am your prisoner now?" She asked with a raise of her eyebrow. She gripped her mug harder. If there was one thing in this world she couldn't tollerate, it was being imprisoned. Lord knows she'd had plenty of that before in her life. She had been doing _so well _recently, as well.

"You're too good at vanishing. We can't find you're previous identities, and that's what we specialize in. I won't have you leaving this ship just to disappear. So, you are my _guest_ until you explain to me the following: What you talked to Loki about, what your connection is to the soul gem, and why you were at the crime scene involving the death of an agent before we were."

"That last one, I swear to you, I have no knowledge of. The other two are my personal affairs and has nothing to do with saving the world from the Mad Titan. I think you're focusing your energy on the wrong place. Leave me be, I have done none of you any harm." She glared at Tony. "Even you, who now despises me, simply for being who I am." She stood up, her anger leaking through her exhaustion. "I'm done talking to the lot of you. If one of your agents will _kindly _show me to the cell where I will be kept, I would like to get some rest."

Fury sighed slowly, and rubbed his hand across his forehead. "Look, try to understand my position here. I don't want to keep anybody a prisoner - but I can't let you walk away. You claim that I don't need to know your personal affairs to save the world but if there is one thing I don't believe in, it's coincidence - and right now you're a big red blinking sign reading 'coincidence.' You won't be kept in a cell, but I can't let you leave."

Placing her mug of coffee down onto the conference table, she looked at him sadly. "A gilded cage is still just that, Director Fury. But I believe you are being sincere in your disdain for the task. But I will not answer your questions. Not now, not ever. So we're at an impasse."

"Most people call that a 'Mexican Stand Off,' y'know," Tony said with a sneer. "Christ, you talk like Lightning Rod and Rudolph. Where the hell're you from, girl?"

"A better education than yours, apparently," Max retorted angrily. She looked back at Fury. "Are we done?!"

"Yes, we're done. For now," Fury said with a long sigh. "Agent Hill, please take Ms. St. Lewis to her room."

* * *

Loki lifted his head from the wall as the door to the small chamber outside his cell opened and shut. He was hoping for the girl, Maxine - perhaps they would play another game of words. His hope was quickly dashed as he saw the familiar face of his brother. Loki sighed and leaned his head back against the wall and shut his eyes.

"You must stop this madness, Loki, and just agree to help us," Thor pleaded in his typical tone.

"I _am _assisting you and your pet mortals... Did I, or did I not, not reveal the Mad Titan as the culprit?" Loki said with a cruel smile.

"Only for a price."

"Everything has a price, Thor, are you truly so naive? It only so happens that I found someone willing to _pay._"

"You know more than you tell us. We must know how the titan seeks to invade and destroy Earth. The name is helpful but it is not enough."

"That is hardly any of my concern."

"Do you wish to be in chains if the titan is to succeed?! You will have no ability to defend yourself and you can be sure that none upon this plane will come to your aid. Indeed I begin to doubt my own conviction to your continued welfare, _brother._"

Loki stilled for a moment, turning where he sat to face his adoptive brother - searching Thor's face for any semblance of jest. But no, he did not seem to be bluffing. Loki would know - Thor was inept in almost all things, lying foremost amongst them. "You would let the Mad Titan destroy me, defenseless as I am."

"I would bargain your life for the freedom of this planet, Loki - if you cannot be redeemed - and it seems _our _father is correct in his suspicions that you are beyond salvage. Everything has a price, as you said."

"You are foolish enough to think that my _meager existence _would be worth anything but spit to the Mad Titan?!" Loki scoffed and stood up, walking towards the glass. "He would not pay a glance at your pathetic bargain. You try and tempt me towards redemption with this, a petty threat that you will cast me off?! You cast me into the void once before."

"You let go!" Thor pounded his fist against the glass, and Loki flinched despite himself. "You cast _yourself _into that void, you remember that as clearly as I do. Why must you falsify your own past?! If your - your so-called slights at my hand - if your suffering in my shadow and at Odin's hand - are true, then why must you imagine these false events to condone your actions?! Who are you lying to, Loki?!"

Loki snarled and turned away from the glass. Damn Thor and his overwhelming sincerity. He would make a wonderful King some day, he thought bitterly to himself. He could convince a crowd of sheep that they were stallions. "I will not tell you how the Mad Titan seeks to destroy the earth. If you wish for my assistance find something worth my time and effort," he said as he sat back down on his bench.

"If the titan succeeds in his plans and finds you in chains - your life is forfeit. It is in your best interests to keep him at bay."

"Then free me, _brother_," Loki hissed at him. "Free me, and I will assist your pathetic little mortal world in _attempting _to defeat the Mad Titan and then I will be on my way."

"A promise from you is one that we cannot trust."

"Then go away. There is nothing else you have to trade _but_ my freedom."

Thor started to walk away before stopping and turning back towards Loki. "The threat is real, brother. The mortals have the jewel of souls. The jewel of the mind - that which you were given when you were sent upon this earth - rests in the vault in Asgard... But two of the five jewels have now appeared. Think on that."

And with that, Thor exited, slamming the door behind him as he left. Loki tiled his head to the side slightly. The soul jewel - and the daughter of death. Fascinating.

* * *

Max sat in the lunch hall, staring down at her mac 'n cheese, poking at it with a fork. The food was decent, she supposed, but she wasn't terribly hungry. Overexerting herself always ruined her appetite for a day or two. Sipping her soda, she turned her current situation over in her mind. Loki knew too much about her, now, and Fury had the soul gem. She was caught between two bad situations on one large floating metal barge.

"I thought you had to read leaves in the bottom of tea," she heard from next to her. She looked over at Tony, who was sitting on the bench backwards, his elbows propped up against the table top. He wasn't looking at her.

"For someone who clearly despises me, you seek out my presence a great deal, Mr. Stark."

"Yeah, well, you made an impact on Loki, and I want to know how."

"Excuse me?"

"He's willing to bargain now - he'll help us fight whoever this 'titan' is, if we free him. Oh, and he's willing to spill his guts about the soul gem, as an extra bonus." Tony looked over at her then, clearly waiting for her reaction.

Unfortunately, one must have shown on her face. She winced as he sneered at her, and she went back to staring into her bowl of mac 'n cheese.

"Yeah, I figured you'd be excited about that - you realize it's clear as fucking day that you have some sort of shady connection to that rock, you just won't play ball. As far as I'm concerned, you and Loki are two peas in a pod, especially after your little 'off the record.'"

"Tony, I'm not working with Loki. I retrieved the information Fury sent me after, and I had to pay a personal price to accomplish that. I don't want this world destroyed. I just want to go home."

"Yeah, where _is_ home anyway? See, I did some snooping around... You only go back ten years, right? I've had Jarvis cracking down on you for the past twenty-four hours, and... man, you're either really good (which I doubt) or your name, your whole identity, and this whole 'I'm normal, I just have a weird gift' is total bullcrap. You talk funny, you act funny, and as far as I'm concerned, you're guilty until proven innocent." He spouted, proud of himself.

"I thought I was a fraud," Max replied with a roll of her eyes. She took another sip of the soda.

"Yeah, well, I can't figure out the little trick you did talking in tongues," he begrudgingly admitted.

"So I am either a fraud, or the enemy. May I ask you a question? Why do you hate me?" She burst out suddenly, surprising even herself. "I am honestly curious. What have I done?"

"I don't trust you," Stark responded.

"You're afraid of death. So you hate me for my connection to it."

"You have too many secrets for my taste."

"I'm hiding no more secrets than the people you call your friends! Certainly no more than Romanov or Barton. Leave me be, Mr. Stark. I just want to be left alone!"

"Ms. St. Lewis?" a hesitant voice asked from behind her. She turned around sharply.

"What?!" she snapped. She sighed as the young agent recoiled from her, startled. "I'm sorry. Mr. Stark is succeeding in his goal of provoking me..."

"Director Fury wants to speak to you urgently... it's... well, Uh... the prisoner, or.. uh.. they both want to speak with you... I..."

Max was caught between pity for the young man and dread for what she was about to walk in to... her two 'bad situations' were now in the same room. But, at least it got her away from Tony Stark. She stood up and stepped away from the bench. "Thank you. I'll come with you, if you would be kind enough to show me the way. I haven't learned my way around this ship yet," she smiled gently at him.

The young man perked up. "I know! It's crazy how this thing was designed - it took me like six months to figure out where to go. I- Uh-" he stammered at the angry glare from Stark. "Uh... this way..." he quickly turned and beelined it for the door.

Max turned to Stark, and seeing the chance to provoke him in return, bowed low and formally. "If I may kindly beg your leave, Mr. Stark... A great shame to be so suddenly summoned from your company. I wish a good day to you, Sir." She smirked at him as she turned and walked away, clasping her arms behind her back as she walked away. She heard a crash from behind her, the sound of a plastic tray and a bowl clattering to the ground. She allowed herself a smile.

Four hallways and an elevator ride later, and they were back in the conference room from before - but this time with different company. Several men with guns stood about the room, their focus on a very pleased looking Loki who sat in a chair, luckily still manacled. Thor was sitting to his side, Mjolnir sitting proudly on the glass. No small threat to his younger 'brother.'

Max resisted the urge to turn and run as she looked on the glass of the conference table to see that damned gem sitting in a box in the center, turned towards the door. _Turned towards her. _They were goading her into a response.

"Sit, if you would, Ms. St. Lewis. I assume I don't need to introduce you to the other people present," Fury clipped form his seat to the right of the table with a few other agents - Romanov amongst them. She stepped forward, to one of the few seats left, one very close to the soul gem. She doubted that was an accident either.

"I'm afraid I haven't been introduced to you, Sir," Max said as she turned her attention to Thor. "It's an honor to meet you."

"Same, my lady. We are all... eager to learn more of your gifts," he said gently.

She wanted to laugh at his understatement. Instead, she just shook her head slightly and sat down in the chair. The young agent who escorted her seemed to have evaporated into the air ducts, so eager he was to escape the tension in the room. She would have loved to have joined him. She wanted to be home, desperately. Or even anywhere that wasn't here would be suitable.

"Loki here has agreed to help us in exchange for his freedom. What do you make of that?"

"I doubt you're willing to free a murderer." She kept her eyes off the stone, keeping her attention on Fury.

"I'm not - but if it'll save the whole damn planet, I'll consider it. He said he would be willing to give us some valuable information _before_ we released him - as a statement of.. eh... 'good will,' if he's capable of such a thing."

"I _am_ actually present, you realize," Loki replied with a roll of his eyes. "And your insults are not even unique enough to be entertaining."

_"Brother," _Thor hissed. "Be quiet."

"I thought you wanted me here to talk - you must make up your mind," Loki said, feigning innocence, shaking his head in fake astonishment at Thor's 'mixed instructions.' Max couldn't help but laugh.

"You laugh at the weirdest times, St. Lewis," Fury commented.

"He's funny," Max said with a shrug. "I've needed some humor the past thirty six hours I've been on board. That's all."

"Mmhm," Fury replied and leaned further back in the chair - the spring in the rolling chair creaked as he did so. "Well, on with it, Loki. Give us your information."

Loki shrugged. "I wager I can explain to you very quickly how our mutual acquaintance here is connected to the soul stone - and how she was given her unique gift."

Max turned sharply towards Loki, panic clearly written in her eyes. "Don't."

"We had a wonderful conversation, Ms. St. Lewis, nothing more. You play a good game. You are now _my _pawn in this game - nothing more. Do not mistake it for more than that," Loki said coldly. Then, like quicksilver, he softened. "But you can prove me wrong easily enough. Pick up that necklace, if you would."

"I... I can't," she stammered uselessly. Damn him. Damn him to hell!

"Just be so kind as to pick up that stone, and prove my theory wrong."

"I... I.." she stood up slowly, and took a step back from the table, and him, shaking her head. "I can't... I can't do it."

"If it's going to burn you, then just tell us what you're hiding and get it over with."

Max shook her head slowly, as defeat slowly started to sink in. She should have known better than to share so much with the god of lies. She should have kept her mouth shut and not offered them any help. Why was she always so stupid?! To trust is human - to make the same idiotic mistakes time after time seemed to be the same. She slowly let herself sink back down in her chair, and let out a slow sigh. "You misunderstand me."

Max reached out to touch the stone, and let her fingers pass straight through it. It was like she - or the stone, she was never quite sure - were only an illusion. Or a ghost, she thought bitterly to herself. After completing the pass, she turned her pale grey eyes to Fury. When she spoke, her voice was cold. "I am _quite literally _unable."

"You cannot touch your own soul," Loki observed from where he sat. Max closed her eyes and sat back in her chair. Her part was done. Now it was up to Loki to ruin all her hard work and caution. "Part of Ms. Maxine's soul lives within that stone."

Max waited for her fate.

"I suspect," Loki continued, his voice measured, "and Ms. Maxine can correct me if she wishes... that some time ago, part of her soul was taken by the stone - and it made her the way she is now."

Max waited for the rest of it. Waited for 'she is the daughter of death' 'she is older than she seems,' or... anything else. But nothing came. Opening her eyes, she turned her head toward Loki, and he met her gaze.

"Am I wrong, Ms. St. Lewis?" Loki asked.

Realization dawned on her slowly. Her hand gripped the leather-clad arm of the chair as it came to her. He wasn't lying to them - he was selling them half-truths. None of that was wrong - but none of it was exactly true either.

"Well?" Fury insisted. "Is he?"

Her unraveled nerves made her hand shake as she put her hand to her forehead. "N... no, he's not wrong..."

"There, now was that so damn hard?!" Fury raised his hands in exclamation.

"I have agreed to assist you, due to our mutual interest in avoiding a confrontation with the Mad Titian. I have also pledged to assist you in learning to wield the Soul Gem for this purpose. I have given you this information to prove my intentions. Is this enough for you to free me?" Loki lifted his manacled wrists. "I am hardly any use to you in my current state..."

"Let's just be perfectly clear here, Loki," Fury said heavily, leaning forward as he spoke. "You so even much as sniff at the wrong door - you so much as step one foot out of line - and I will have Banner pound your ass so hard into the tarmac that you won't be getting up this time."

Loki blinked, and smiled. "Duly noted."

"Fine. Let the bastard loose," Fury gestured as Thor, with a heavy sigh, reached over and with a key he had produced from his tunic pocket, undid the manacles and set them on the table.

The moment the shackles hit the glass table, Max had to keep herself from jumping from her chair as she heard Loki's voice - but not aloud - no. This was in her head.

_I have accepted your previous offer. My knowledge for yours. You will tell me who created you... but do not worry - your secrets are _mine _to keep. _

Somehow Max wasn't comforted.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes: WARNING - **This chapter has some pretty decent gore in it. I like writing gore. If this stuff bothers you, jump to the bottom for the "TG;DR" (Too gross; didn't read.) Also, thank you again for the wonderful review, GabbyTheAngel.

Onward!

* * *

Max hid in her room for two solid days. She wasn't sure exactly who she was avoiding - Stark, Fury, or Loki. All three were a large enough reason to stay put where she was. She was glad for Loki's new freedom apparently being a large enough distraction for Fury, as she hadn't been called away for any more uncomfortable conversations in that damnable conference room.

One of the 'moden marvel's she enjoyed was the little electric book she held in her hands. She loved the feel of paper and the weight of the human word as much as the next person - lord knows she loved to read - but the little travel sized companion was a wonderful convenience, especially with her current situation. She laughed aloud at the potential failed marketing slogan that ran through her head: 'Kidnapped? Bring a kindle!'

Max's amusement and solitude were both broken when there was a knock on the door. She flipped the little electronic book off and spoke at the same time. "Come in."

The door entered, and she was relieved to see Romanov standing at the door. The woman looked at her passively, her face always the trained mask. "Fury asked me to come and get you. We're all leaving the helicarier for Stark tower and he wants you to come along."

"Why Stark tower?" Max asked as she stood, putting her kindle in the small leather messenger bag she had with her when she was brought in. She didn't question the order to leave - Romanov could easily make her regret any belligerence on her part. "Aren't we all present and accounted for?"

"Well, Banner went back to New York, and Cap has been off on another mission until now. We're briefing the team on the Mad Titan - and you and Loki will be there as well since you're a part of this apparently." Romanov spoke as they walked, her back to Maxine. She turned her head to look back at the other woman with a grin, though, as she added. "That and Stark is insisting he has a higher definition display than we do."

Max rolled her eyes and walked, shaking her head. Sounded like Stark. As they walked, she heard the resounding footfalls of everyone around her - including hers - on the thick floor of the ship. But not Romanov's. She tilted her head to the side slightly - it wasn't her shoes - standard issue - no. The woman was trained to walk silently. Max wondered if Natasha had begun doing that reflexively over the years.

"I have a question," Romanov started, slowing slightly to walk next to Maxine. "You... You can seriously talk to the dead, can't you."

Maxine nodded slowly, her expression tight. A request to talk to the dead, most likely. Normal people ran through a pretty typical pattern with her - first, skepticism, then, insistent curiosity.

"Have you ever talked to any of mine..?" Romanov asked, not accusing, just the question for what it's worth. Maxine was jealous of the simple way she had of speaking, without ever giving away what was going on underneath. She supposed she suffered heavily for that gift.

"Of course not. I value my privacy highly... I value the privacy of others even more so. I... consider invading Loki's privacy like that a needed violation due to the circumstances."

"Aren't you ever curious, though?"

"No... I've known enough of people's horrors to know they all roughly fall into the same few categories. Who you've killed, who you've loved, who you've lied to. Things are rarely spectacular enough to interest me anymore. I prefer fiction for my entertainment. So much more imaginative than the lives of the rest of us." She said gently, a small smile on her face. She was instantly fond of Romanov.

Romanov made a 'huh' noise in the back of her throat as she thought it over. "Thanks for not prying into my past," she finally said. "Most people would, surrounded by people who... haven't been to nice to them. Fury's worried that you sold Loki all our secrets for the price of learning who had sent him."

Max chuckled. "I offered - I had nothing to tell him, mind you, as I know nothing of Fury's dead. But he denied, said I was more 'interesting' and was only interested in my own past. You know how poorly I lie. I can swear to you," she looked at Natasha, hoping the spy could see her sincerity. "I have no alliance with the Lord of Deceit - I play a dangerous game to save this planet, same as all of you..."

"So how does it feel, having Loki find you interesting?" Natasha said, allowing her lip to curl into a smirk. They were approaching a large jet looking aircraft, the back bay door having been lowered for people to enter. She saw several people milling around on board - including at least half a dozen heavily armed soldiers. Why, certainly not for - Oh. Loki. The god in question sat on one of the seats against the wall of the aircraft, looking somewhere between bored and smug.

"Horrifying," she responded. "I am quite serious when I say that all I want to be is left alone..."

"Why not tell us everything you know, then, and just leave? You're an awful liar. If Fury knew what was going on with you, he'd let you go home."

"With all due respect, Ms. Romanov... I... I highly doubt that..." Maxine stopped walking for a moment, looking at the group on the ship with a deep sense of foreboding. She could feel this would go nowhere good.

"What makes you so sure? Fury's... a soldier, he does what needs to happen, but he's a good man."

"I hope you're right," Maxine said with a long sigh and started walking again, walking up the ramp, her feet clanging on the metal. Romanov still walked silently. "I think we'll likely find out."

She stood amongst the crowd for a moment before she heard a quiet voice break the rabble. Everyone went silent as he spoke. Loki. "Come sit by me, Ms. St. Lewis... I would enjoy the pleasure of your company."

"You needn't be so sarcastic," Max said, turning her gaze to the God of Lies.

"I am not being sarcastic," Loki said with a smile, spreading his hands apart in the air in front of him. "Vapid, perhaps, in my statement. But not sarcastic."

Max rolled her eyes and went to open her mouth when suddenly the plane lurched. A soldier next to her caught her arm to keep her from collapsing. "You might want to take a seat, miss," the soldier replied, and none too gently placed her in the seat next to Loki. She looked up to talk to the solider and question his choice of placement but the man was as quickly gone as he arrived.

Max sighed.

"Am I so undesirable company, now, that you will not sit and speak with me? You were so familiar with me before," he said with a sharp smile. He was enjoying her discomfort. Of course he was. "Perhaps you'd rather speak to my brother, he is always the favorite."

"Mmh, he's not my type," she teased him. If he was going to goad her, she would goad him back. "I have a distaste for blondes."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure you would shoo him from your bedchambers," Loki was now the one to roll his eyes.

"I never said that. But you were asking for my preference. A starving man, if presented a banquet of delicacies, will eat his fill. If he is presented a simple bowl of soup, he will do the same," Max said with a sly smile.

Loki laughed - a real laugh - and grinned widely down at her. "And you are starving, then?"

"Now you are putting words in my mouth, Loki, whatever will you do next," she said, letting the innuendo float in the air. She was harmlessly flirting with the god of lies, now. It was a safer level of conversation than where she dreaded he would want to go. If she entertained him, perhaps he would stray from other more personal levels of conversation.

She winced as he spoke directly into her mind. _Your ploy is a clever one, you are so very good with words. You make me wish I had visited this planet in the century past, if they all had such a gift for speech as you do._

Max turned to look at him and at his still pleased expression. She had called him gorgeous once, she meant it. She laughed once, and looked away, turning her gaze to the rest of the people in the aircraft as it lifted and flew away. Most eyes were trained on them - Thor, Barton, Romanov, Fury - all staring at them. Not to mention the soldiers carrying heavy rifles, all trained on the God of Lies.

"Do you ever get the sensation of being... unwanted?" Loki said, observing the same as she.

"Most every day," she muttered.

_Yet another facet of our lives we share, my dear._

* * *

Stark tower's penthouse was gorgeous. There was no way around it. As much as the man had recently come to loathe her, he was a genius, and apparently knew who to hire as interior decorator. She moved to the glass to overlook the city of New York - cranes still dotting the tops of the buildings that were damaged the worst during the battle of New York. She turned as Tony Stark stood up to greet everyone else in the room, stopping to look at Loki.

"Y'know, golden rod - I thought about putting a jacuzzi in the floor where Banner pounded your ass through it. The hole was deep enough."

Loki remained silent, and walked away from Tony to approach the glass, coming to stand near to her as they looked over the city.

"He brought us here simply to needle you," Max observed. "From here you can see the extent of the damage your battle caused. And it was here you were defeated."

"Not 'needle,' thanks," Tony called from behind her. "A reminder. And-" he spoke loudly, suddenly turning to Barton next to him, saying the rest 'under his breath,' but purposefully loud enough to be heard. "Since when are those two all buddy-buddy now?"

"It's natural," Max said as she turned away from the glass and found a chair by the bar. "That the two most hated people in a room would find some bare shred of camaraderie in a situation such as this. If only for the simple reason that we have yet to spit barbs at each other."

"I. You. Really. Need to level out, St. Lewis - like - your speech patterns. Y'know, I've analyzed them - took recordings and - you talk like someone a hundred years old. Want to explain-"

"Can we get on with this, please?" interrupted a blond man sitting on a sofa - he looked as bored with Tony as the rest of the room.

"Yeah, yeah, Cap, fine."

Max tuned out through most of the 'briefing' - she was impressed by the illusionary screens of light that Tony was able to command through the room with a flick of his wrist - sending screens of information hovering in space when and where he needed them. It was an amusing light show. She was startled out of her thoughts by a gentle touch to her arm.

Looking over, there was a lovely, warm faced blonde woman standing next to her, offering her a mug of coffee. "Here, sorry, it looked like you needed it. God knows we all do when Tony starts showing off. Hi, I'm Pepper."

Max smiled warmly back at her. This would be the first moment of sincere friendliness she had been paid since meeting Fury. "Thank you... I do, yes. My name is Maxine. It's nice to meet you."

"Don't mind Tony's constant abuse, please... he's... wound up lately, since New York." Pepper's eyes darted to Loki, who still stood by the glass, his back to the presentation. He hadn't moved since they arrived. He looked like a dark blot of black and green ink against the bright New York summer day.

"I am sorry that he is here, after all that you and yours suffered, it must be hard to harbor-" she stopped, and sighed. "To have him in the room." She tried to remember to 'correct' her language when she could, but it was difficult.

"Tony's told me who you are, don't worry. Or, who he thinks you are. He thinks you're a lot older than you let on - and - and I kind of see it - it's in your eyes, I guess..."

Maxine smiled, but felt the sadness grip her heart. "Sometimes it's nice to pretend," she said quietly. She didn't know why she was confessing this to Pepper - perhaps she was starved for just a real moment of kindness. She sipped the coffee and stared into her drink - her eyes not focusing on anything in particular. "The coffee is amazing," she finished, unexpectedly.

Pepper put her hand on Max's arm. "I didn't mean to upset you, I'm sorry."

"No, it's..." She looked back up at the woman, and shook off the melancholy, straightening her back and doing her best to smile again. "It's a very long story, Pepper."

Sometimes, impactful moments just happen. Indeed, more often than not we miss them entirely until the damage is done. Time does not slow down, there is now failed reach - no straining moment of 'I was just an instant too late.' No. Often when things just simply occur, we feel cheated - as if we were not allowed to be part of what was going on. We wanted to be there, wanted to help, wanted to try and change things. But things just _happen._

The sudden sound of gunfire rang through the room - sharp and painful in the glass floor of the skyscraper. The look on Tony's face was a blank mask. It happened so fast that he hadn't even noticed as his throat disappeared into a red mist and bits of literal mincemeat. The high powered rifles were carrying ammunition designed to fell a god - the flesh of a mortal man was no concern to them.

Tony collapsed to the floor - blood gushing in torrents from the gaping maw that was left of his throat. The back wall of the penthouse was spattered with red, now slowly oozing to create a million little parallel streaks. The gushing of blood from his nearly-missing throat was pumping weaker already. Even from the distance she sat, she could see the bone of his spine.

_"Tony!" _Pepper howled.

It is the moment _after_ such things occur that slow down. Not the moment of action itself. In a flurry of motion, all at once, Banner flew from the room in a fit, Thor had gripped Mjolnir, and had jumped towards the S.H.I.E.L.D agent who had opened fire. Romanov and Barton already had the man on the floor, a gun pressed against the back of his head. Fury was shouting, and Pepper had gone to to the side of Tony, kneeling in the large puddle of blood, her white shirt and khaki pants already turning a dark burgundy as it soaked up the viscous liquid.

"You will save him," the man on the floor yelled. It took her a moment to realize he was shouting at her. She took a step toward the agent on the floor without thinking.

"You will show them what you _really are. _You will save him, or you will have his death on _your_ hands, _Isabel._ You will do it!"

"What the fuck is he yelling about?!" Fury demanded of her.

"Aah, so that is your real name," Loki purred from behind her. She turned as the God of Lies wandered from the window to the bar. "It suits you so much better."

"She can bring him back!" the man on the floor spouted.

"Shut him up," Fury ordered. Barton brought the hilt of the gun down on the back of the man's head, who dropped his head to the floor, unconscious. "Lock him up. Break both his legs while you're at it," Fury snapped at two of the other soldiers standing nearby.

"But Loki, Sir-"

"Is the least of our worries right now. Go."

Max was still staring at Loki as he calmly poured himself a drink. She was pleading with him silently, pleading with him to _do something. _He looked at her, the knowledge plainly on his face that her world was now unraveled. Everything she had tried to do - everything she had tried to hide - was now dashed to bits. She pleaded with him silently to take her away from here.

He only smiled and lifted his glass to her.

He wanted to see this.

She yelped as she was spun around roughly by the shoulder. "One, who the fuck is Isabel, and two - what the _fuck_ was he yelling about?!"

"I am Isabel..." she said quietly. "That's my real name. Not Max."

"A horrible name, really," Loki interjected from the bar.

Isabel ignored him - it wasn't hard - with Fury now giving her a rough shake to the shoulders. "You forgetting the second half of my question, woman?! What the fuck was he yelling about, 'you can bring him back?!'"

Isabel gently pushed away from him - not struggling, just gently taking his hands from her. She took a slow step back, her decision made.

Tony Stark had done her no favors - had not been kind to her - indeed he had been cruel. But he had died, not for her, but because of her. This man masquerading as an agent had known who she was... and if that was true, she was in much deeper trouble than she imagined. Tony Stark had not deserved to die in this moment. It was not his time. He had died because someone had sought - and succeeded - to remind her that there was nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run.

"I can bring Tony Stark back from the grave."

* * *

TG;DR - An unknown man masquerading as a SHEILD agent shot Tony Stark several times using a high powered rifle containing a bullet designed to drop Loki. He died. Horribly so. The same unknown man revealed that Max's real name is Isabel, and that she has the power to resurrect the dead.


	7. Chapter 7

"He's _dead..._" Pepper wailed from the floor, tears streaking down her face, shouting at them now. "He's dead, and you're just _standing there!_"

"Director Fury," Isabel said quietly as she sat down on a nearby chair, and began undoing her shoes and taking off her socks. "I will need one of your agents to hold Pepper back while I do what I need to do."

"Which is - you're-"

"Just going to show you, Director Fury. You wanted to know what I am?" she spread her hands out at her sides. "I am now going to show you. Believe what I say or not, but just do what I ask if you wish for Iron Man to be a part of this team for another day."

Director looked over at Barton, who got the drift. Barton stood, walked over to Pepper, and gently, carefully, took her away, shushing her and holding her as they walked to the other side of the room. She just kept wailing that he was dead. And Tony was clearly that - his heart had stopped pumping uselessly long ago, and his skin was already a pale ashen hue.

"Why have you taken off your shoes..?" Loki asked thoughtfully. He was watching the scene like someone watches a documentary. Learning, but detached.

"I like these shoes. And bloody socks are miserable things to wear," she shrugged idly. Standing up, she began walking towards the still-increasing-in-diameter puddle of blood. She looked over at Romanov where she stood by a table, a look on her face that could have possibly betrayed her horror at the scene, although Isabel might have been mistaken. "Ms. Romanov... may I ask you for a favor?"

Natasha stepped forward, and shrugged dismissively. "Yeah," she replied.

"Once this starts, I can't control it. I won't be aware of my surroundings. It is important - it is a matter of life and death, that no one touch either of us while this is happening. If you touch either of us, you'll be dragged down into it. It's like electricity - it will spread and pass to ground through any route possible, and I won't have someone else getting tagled up in this." If Romanov understood she made no sign of it on her face. Isabel continued. "He will come back first - you know it will be safe to touch him when he starts breathing. Even then, do not touch me until I do the same."

"Gotcha," was her simple reply.

Isabel smiled at her. "You are truly unflappable, aren't you, Ms. Romanov."

"I've seen some pretty weird shit in the past two years," she commented simply, another dismissive shrug of one shoulder.

Isabel turned to walk towards the puddle again, now barefoot on the stone floor. She blinked and turned back to Natasha. "Oh, and... if I am out for some time, please don't let them put me into a body bag and put me in the morgue. I hate waking up in morgues."

She turned back towards the puddle, not waiting for a response, and took her first step into the puddle of blood. It squished through her toes - already cold and beginning to congeal. Like stepping into spilt milk. Isabel grimaced.

"You have the ability to give life to those who have lost it," Loki observed. "Another impossible power, it seems."

"No, I'm not going to give him life... I will take his death from him."

"There's a difference?" Thor asked from across the room.

"Yes, God of Thunder," Isabel replied. "There is a difference - it is subtle, but it is there. It is simpler... albeit very painful... to take away the gift of death than it is to bestow something I do not have to give away."

"... Oh," was his response. Isabel tried not to chuckle - it was clear he didn't understand. No matter.

Isabel carefully made her way through the puddle of blood towards Tony's corpse where it lay. The front of his shirt, indeed most of his clothing, was soaked through. She was trying not to slip. She did, in fact, have a rather large audience and this would be undignified enough before the end of it without slipping in the mess.

"Please... please... don't let him be dead," Pepper wept from where she sat, collapsed on the ground, still in the consoling (and restraining) arms of Clint.

Isabel knelt down in the blood, grimacing again as she felt the cold liquid (although slightly warmer now, closer to its source) start to soak into her slacks. "I am going to need a shower.." she muttered idly to herself. Rolling up her sleeve, she put her hand close to the exposed skin on Tony's arm. She looked at him for a moment, at the still and passive expression on his face - and the gruesome chasm that was once his neck.

She sighed.

She placed her hand on his arm, skin to skin, and shut her eyes.

* * *

The power surged through the room - it was so palpable that Loki nearly staggered backwards. Even the mortals, with their limited senses, recoiled as they felt something they could not explain wash out in waves from where 'Maxine' - now properly Isabel - knelt by the body of the idiot Tony Stark.

Loki stepped around from the bar, walking closer to get a better view of what was happening. If he were any lesser of a man, he would be agog as his brother. But he was no less in awe. The first thing that became of note was the glowing shape on Isabel's back - glowing through the button down shirt she wore. It appeared to be two intersecting triangles - one larger, running point to point from her shoulder blades, the third point oriented downwards and along her spine. The second triangle mirrored the orientation, only smaller and further down her mid back. Intersecting the triangles were circles, lines, and intricate lettering in a language he did not understand. It glowed through her shirt a pale ghostly blue color - tied obviously with whatever power she was tapping into.

_'I was created by powerful black magic,' _her words rang through his mind as he watched. He could not dwell on the shape for long, though. For he now understood exactly what was happening. Slowly at first, but growing gradually in speed, the damaged flesh of Stark's neck was beginning to stitch itself back together. His skin was turning back from the pale, ashen waxiness of the dead to its natural tone as blood seemed to re-manifest itself in his system. But as his skin tone returned to normal, Isabel's own was fading.

_'I will take his death from him,' - _and she had meant it literally. She was absorbing Tony Stark's death - taking it into herself and dying _for _him. With every stitch of flesh replaced in Stark's body Isabel looked the worse for it. While her body stayed in tact, and did not reflect the physical damage paid to the millionaire, it did not take long before Isabel's kneeling body was now that - she was the corpse.

Suddenly, Tony's eyes flew open - staring blankly at the ceiling.

* * *

Dying - the true act of dying - is cold. It is so cold it aches, and it aches so badly it burns. Like sinking alone into a frozen lake, sinking into the freezing darkness. Most people, when they die, are spared this feeling. Their mind is whisked away to somewhere else. They call it 'shock' these days. But when you are aware of what is happening, and when your soul has no reprieve to leave its casing, it is an arduously long process.

She used to fight it. She used to struggle, trying to keep above it - thinking she could outlast it. But it made it better not to struggle - it truly hurt less the less she thrashed or fought against the encroaching darkness. It was all right. It wouldn't last. And if this time, against all odds, the death 'stuck,' well... More's the better.

Finally, her mind went silent.

* * *

Loki watched as Stark gasped - his back arching, and with his first breath of air, let out a wail of pain, smashing one arm against the ground as pain wracked his body. As he came to life, Isabel began to tilt, threatening to collapse. He wasn't sure why, but he thought to catch her before she fell into the puddle of gore on the floor. As he stepped forward, he heard a click, and suddenly found himself refocusing his eyes on the barrel of a gun that was nearly shoved up his nostrils.

"Nuh-uh. She said no touching. You heard the lady," Romanov said from where she stood on the other end of the gun.

"I believe it is safe."

"She's not breathing yet. You heard her. And don't tempt me - I'd love to try and put a few holes through your face."

Loki raised his hands in a sign of surrender and took a step back. Romanov lowered her gun, and holstering the gun to her side, stepped through the puddle of blood and around Isabel's prone from - giving her a wide birth. Instead, she helped Tony as he thrashed, still wailing in pain.

"Hey, hey, Tony, Tony, are you with us?" she said, trying to pull him up to sitting.

"Oh god... Oh god... Oh... OH.. Ohh god... Pepper..." Tony stammered, his body overcome with tremors, seeing Pepper where she sat, now weeping harder. He moved, staggering and tripping over himself, closer towards his paramour. With Natasha's help, he finally made it, although he couldn't stay standing. Pepper threw her arms around him, clutching the bloody man to her chest, uncaring of the mess it was making of herself and everything nearby.

"I... I... someone shot Maxine... I mean, look at that... there's so much blood... Someone shot her - she's dead - oh - OH god, Pepper, there's so much... are you hurt? You're covered in blood? No? Oh thank god. Why are you crying? You look so upset. Pepper, don't cry - you didn't even really know her... I hope they caught the guy that shot-" and Tony stopped his haggard ranting, suddenly looking ill. "Oh god... Pepper... I... I... think I died..."

Stark turned his head in time to keep from retching on either Pepper or Barton - and let out another wail - this time of more emotional suffering than physical, Loki guessed.

"Get him out of here," Fury said, more a request than an order. "Get him somewhere and get him cleaned up and... for gods sake, get a drink in that man."

Loki walked closer to the edge of the puddle of blood as Romanov, Barton, and 'Captain America' helped Pepper and Tony from the room. That left Fury and his so-called brother present, as Banner had left when Tony was first maimed - likely to keep from 'exploding with rage' at the death of his friend.

"She's dead," Fury observed.

The overwhelming obvious nature of the statement made Loki want to slap him, instead he settled for staring, exacerbated at the ceiling. "We can see that, thank you," he replied. "I doubt she will stay that way."

"Oh?"

"Is it not clear she has done this act before?"

"Hrmf," Fury responded.

"I do not understand - what is the difference between giving life and taking death..?" Thor asked from where he stood, having not moved since this all began.

This time Loki rolled his eyes. "She can't give life - she only has her own. You can't _give_ something you do not _have. _But you can take. She's dying for Stark. Am I the only one who figured that out?" Loki shook his head.

"Look, you egotistical pr-"

They were interrupted as Isabel gasped, her back arching, her lungs filling with air. Her skin was still a horrible shade of greyish-blue. As she exhaled, her breath was mist. As if her breath was far, far too cold for the air. Loki winced despite himself and found himself hoping he would never have the dubious pleasure of taking anyone's death from them.

* * *

Coming back was the worst part of it. It hurt - all your nerve endings were on fire. Your whole body, having finally relaxed for the first time since it was conceived, could finally rest. And now, it's commanded to come back and start working again. She moaned in pain, her back arching off the floor, as her muscles seized and spasmed. She took a slow breath, and let the pain pass. She knew how to let the pain work through her without struggling against it.

Opening her eyes, she let them slowly focus on the ceiling, and let out another slow breath - still mist in the warmer air. Her body was slowly warming back up, and she lifted a hand in front of her face. Olive. Good. Warmer. Better.

"You really can raise the dead," she heard Fury's voice.

"Fury, _go the hell away,_" she spat out - the pain inspiring her to swear. "I will not tolerate you asinine questions and demands for information right this moment. I am, if... if you can't tell," she shuddered, and rolled onto her side. She pushed herself back up to sitting, her arms shaking. "Otherwise... occupied..."

"I was going to thank you," Fury replied, his arms folded across his chest. "For bringing Tony back. Didn't look fun."

"You have no idea..."

"I'm sure I don't."

Isabel touched her hand to her head and pulled it back, sticky with blood. She groaned. "I need a shower..."

"Yeah, you're a mess. I'd give you the choice of which of the three of us you want to help you clean yourself up, but I'm pretty sure it's an obvious choice. Hey, Tho-"

"I will do it," Loki interjected with a tone that left no room for argument, stepping forward, and acting as though the blood wasn't there, carefully reached down and grasped her arms. "Can you stand?" he asked her, surprisingly gentle, if entirely devoid of concern.

"I think so, this one... wasn't the worst. The longer they're dead, the harder..." she trailed off as Loki lifted her easily, like she weighed nothing, and set her on her feet outside the puddle of blood. He kept his hand hooked around her upper arm, and walked towards the door. "Where are we going..?" she asked weakly.

Loki tilted his head thoughtfully, and turned his head to look at Fury, not bothering to state his question.

Fury sighed and shook his head. "Jarvis."

"Yes, Director Fury," a mechanical voice answered from nowhere.

"Direct them to the nearest unused shower, would you?"

"Gladly," the voice replied.

Isabel blinked once, twice, and put her hand to her head. "Loki, I.."

"Are we starting to be bashful now? I-"

"No, quiet. I-"

The room span as the incident caught up with her. The floor tilted up towards her head and her mind went quiet for the second time in half an hour.

* * *

This was not where she expected to wake up.

She was in a tub - a beautiful black marble tub - filled with warm water and bubbles. She was wet. In the tub.

Someone was touching her. She turned her head upwards and - no.

She started laughing.

"I fail to see what's so funny," Loki grumbled. "I am hardly pleased to be playing handmaiden. Do not laugh at my rare act of kindness - I will not do this again for you. But all others are currently occupied fawning over _Stark _and fail to see the impropriety of leaving you unconscious and caked in blood.."

"I'm dreaming," Isabel said with another small laugh.

"No, I assure you, you are very much awake."

Isabel paused, blinked, and looked back towards the bubbles that covered the top of the water.

"... I'm naked."

"Yes, in that you are correct."

* * *

"Ingrate!" Loki shouted at the door after he slammed it shut, fuming. The impertinent child had the audacity to shoo him from the room like he was unwelcome. Judging by the color in her face, he was _more _than welcome. "And I have already seen you naked - you are shutting the barn doors behind the horse!"

"Why're you yelling at the bathroom door?" came an amused female voice from behind him. Loki turned - and sighed. Twice now Romanov had succeeding in sneaking up on him. Natasha was holding a stack of folded clothes.

"Ms. Isabel saw fit to eject me from the bath, despite the fact it was I who _put her there._"

Natasha laughed and shook her head. "All brains, no smarts."

"Excuse me?!"

"You're all brains, no smarts," she repeated, this time as a challenge to him - she was testing to see if he would resort to violence so quickly. Loki growled under his breath but threw his arms up in frustration and stormed from the door.

"Very well, then explain to me what I am wont to understand, Romanov."

"Girls generally don't like to wake up naked next to a man they don't know," Natasha rolled her eyes. "Are you that dense?"

"I have already seen her naked."

"While she was unconscious."

"Why is that different?!"

Natasha sighed, and shook her head. Walking past him to the door, she had the audacity to pat him on the arm as if she _pitied_ him. "Let's blame it on you being from Asgard and move on."

Loki clenched his fists, took a slow breath, and let it out slowly. Natasha had meanwhile knocked on the door.

"It's Natasha. Hey - uh - Isabel - are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Loki heard her respond from inside the washroom.

"I brought you clothes," Natasha replied.

"Oh, thank God. Thank you. I didn't... putting these back on would defeat the purpose of the bath."

Natasha laughed. "Dried bloody clothes are the worst. Here, can I come in?"

"Of course."

And with that, the redhead opened the door, passed inside and shut it. And he was left, dejected, standing in an unoccupied bedroom. He walked to a plush chair and sank down into its fabric and decided to fall back on a good old past time.

He sulked.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Thank you everyone for the wonderful comments! I'll do my best to keep everything rolling - once I pull the cord and unleash something it's hard for me to stop typing. :) And a bit of humor after something serious. The story will move fairly quickly, I hate to go too far in between action. Thanks again! Enjoy!


	8. Chapter 8

Isabel watched her reflection in the mirror for a moment and sighed. All Natasha had for her to wear was a tank top - comfortable, but, showed parts of the marking on her back. No matter - they were sure to have seen it anyway. Running the brush through her long hair one last time - her hand still trembling as she did - she stepped out of the bathroom and found Loki sitting in a chair by a window, a sullen look on his face.

"I have you brooding now. I'm flattered."

"I am not brooding," Loki grumbled, but didn't look her way.

"I was raised during the Victorian time period. I know a good brood when I see one."

"Very well," Loki turned his head finally to face her. "Then what would I be brooding over, do you surmise?"

"Likely trying to figure out how to turn this situation to your advantage, I would wager, but it's a cheating guess."

"How so?"

"Aren't you always attempting to turn your surroundings into a game you can control and win? You set yourself free easily enough, after all."

"Ah, yes, well, I do have you to thank for that, partially. If you weren't such a mystery that Fury was overeager to unravel, I would likely be in chains still." Loki stood up and walked towards her. He walked with a purpose - Isabel stood still, and watched him warily. He walked around behind her, and she jumped as she felt his fingers touch her back - he traced the top line of the larger triangle that ran between her shoulder blades. "And every time you reveal part of your secret, you seem to have two more to replace it." She pulled away from him, and turned to face him. Loki smiled at that. "Do you not trust me, my dear?"

"Not even in the most remote of ways," Isabel replied. "I would think you prefer it that way."

He didn't reply as he moved to step around behind her again, but she dodged and took another step back. "Come now, Isabel," he replied. "I wish to take a better look at the symbol you have tattooed-"

"I tattooed nothing," she snapped, a little too harshly.

"Interesting," Loki grinned. "You are made uncomfortable by its existence then? Why would that be?"

"You're clever. You figure it out," Isabel bit back and turned sharply, heading towards the door. She could see the conversation was becoming dangerous. "I'm sure you won't disappoint."

"Where are you going?" he asked, clearly not having expected her quick departure. She supposed people didn't walk away from the Lord of Lies very often. Isabel paused with her hand on the doorknob, and turned her head, just barely, to look at him from the side.

"I have always been a pawn in someone's game, Loki. I have always been a tool for someone else to wield. I have never been given the option to chose my own way - and I have had many, many usurpers to the throne of my free will. I know your game, and I know your ploy. You would be the ally, my friend in the shadows, the one who 'understands my suffering.' You would seek to wield my powers for your own ends, and make me believe that I was still free. It would work, too, have I not been told that lie before and see it plainly."

Loki stood, stunned. Not because she was wrong, but because she was so blatantly calling him out. She continued, turning her head fully now to face him, her expression as cold as her voice . "I will hear what Nick Fury has to say, and let him play _his _game. I will likely now be forced to choose my jailor. You are a much more dangerous choice, Loki... less irritating, perhaps, but far more dangerous nonetheless."

And with that, she opened the door.

"This prison is better looking," she heard him reply as she shut the door behind her.

As she walked down the hallway, it took all her composure to not collapse against the wall in a fit of tears and laughter. At least Loki respected her intelligence enough not to deny her claim. He wanted her for his own ends. She wasn't shocked - most people did. If Fury did not demand she be thrown into a cell and immediately go to work resurrecting all of his fallen soldiers, she would be surprised at his restraint.

Halfway down the hallway, she stopped walking. She turned her head up towards the ceiling. She had no idea where she was going. All keen to make a dramatic exit, and no semblance of a clue where she was headed. Isabel laughed at herself, shaking her head.

"Miss Isabel?" came a detached, mechanical and oddly British voice. She thought she remembered hearing it earlier. She jumped, and turned around, looking for the source.

"Uh, hello..?" she asked, seeing no one.

"I am Jarvis, miss, the digital assistant to Mr. Stark. You appear lost. May I assist you?"

Modern marvels indeed. "You could. I am... actually looking to speak with Mr. Stark. Could you kindly guide me to him?"

"Of course," the voice replied. She smiled - she had more in common in speech patterns to his digital butler, naturally Stark was suspicious. She followed the robot's verbal cues until she reached a door, and stopped. "Do I knock?" she asked Jarvis - confused. Traditionally, the butler of a house would-

"I have already announced your presence, Miss Isabel. He has bid you to enter," Jarvis responded.

Isabel laughed. At least the computer had proper manners. "Thank you, Jarvis."

"My pleasure."

And with that, she opened the door. She was in likely one of many of Tony's research and development labs. Tables, and polished glass and metal were scattered everywhere. Bits of wires, tubes, and half-finished inventions covered almost every surface. Tony himself sat, his back to her, tinkering with something on a table in front of him. She shut the door quietly behind her, and waited. She didn't want to interrupt his work. She rubbed her arm and shivered - her body was still too cold. The bath had helped immensely, but it would take a day or so to really recover.

"Yeah?" Stark asked from where he sat, his voice low. The man sounded as awful as he probably felt. She was much faster healing than he, and she still ached, her fingers going numb from time to time. He likely felt 'run over.'

"I'm surprised you're alone - I thought you would be under the care of Pepper."

"They were fawning. I don't like being fawned over," he finished, still not turning to look at her. "What do you want?" The question wasn't cruel - his voice was still morose.

Isabel nodded once to herself. She hated being fawned over as well - in that they had something in common. She let out a small breath. "I will not seek you out a second time, Mr. Stark, I will value your privacy as I do my own. But... I am likely the only person on this earth who knows precisely what you experienced and I know the pain you are in at this moment. If you ever wish to speak of what happened to you, I will be honored to listen. I know you are likely not prepared yet, as these... things take time to process and absorb."

Stark didn't move for a moment - his hand reaching out for a glass of dark liquid near him. His hand was shaking badly, as he picked up the glass and lifted it to his lips. Taking a sip, he placed the glass back down, and stared at his palm as his hand trembled. "Is this going to stop?" he asked.

"Yes. The weakness will be gone by morning. Just eat some food and try and get some rest. If you are avoiding nightmares, I can promise you they will not come - not on the first night anyway," she smirked to herself sadly. "Your mind will be too tired."

Stark didn't respond, just kept tinkering with whatever he was working with. She didn't expect anything more than this. She turned to leave, and opened the door.

"Thank you," she heard from behind her. She turned and smiled at the back of his head.

"You're welcome, Mr. Stark."

* * *

Isabel was halfway down another corridor when she heard running feet coming towards her. Turning, she was shocked to see Barton ripping down the corridor in her direction. He pulled up short in front of her, and grabbed her upper arm. It wasn't forceful - but he certainly had her attention.

"We need to get back to the bird. Now."

"... Bird..." she said, not following."

Barton sighed. "The plane."

"Why...?"

"The soul gem has been stolen. Again."

"And Fury figures that I can find it?"

"He said it was our best best. Probably the same group that infiltrated to shoot Stark took the stone at the same time. It's gone off the radar. We have to go, now, please," he insisted. She obliged him, hurrying without running. She didn't run. Ever.

"There's no reason to rush. There is no one alive on this earth with the power to use it. It takes-"

Pain flooded her vision as something wrapped its hand around her core and squeezed. She gagged in pain, her knees giving out. She felt Barton grab hold of her. Slowly her vision circled back to normalcy. It was a pain she hadn't felt in nearly seventy years. "Today is not a good day for consciousness..."

"Are you okay?!" Barton asked, helping her back upright.

"We should... we should get to the plane and.. find the stone."

"Someone's trying to use it, aren't they," Barton began walking, keeping his hand on her arm in case she collapsed again.

She only nodded, mutely. They made it to the roof, stepping out onto the platform where the plane was waiting. Everyone else - Loki included - was already on board.

"All I gotta know - and I gotta know this right now -" Fury began as soon as she was within ear shot, not wasting any time. "Is can you track the damn thing."

"Yes, I can - I can't give you coordinates but... I can be a compass."

"Good enough."

"Someone's already trying to use it-" Barton added. "Apparently she can tell when they're noodling around with it. Doesn't look comfortable."

"Nothing is," Isabel said and sat down on a seat, placing her hand to her head. "I'll need to focus to tell you where we should be going."

"I'll be flying," Barton walked passed the others and sat down in the cockpit. "Can you tell me directions like the face of a clock?"

"Should be easy enough," she replied. "We might suddenly overshoot and have to turn around quickly," she added, thoughtfully.

"That's what the hover feature is for," he smirked at her and began firing up the jet.

"You are quick to put the gem back in Fury's hands, I see," Loki said from where he took his seat across from her. "Have you decided you trust this S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Not at all... No offense, Fury," she commented.

"None taken," Fury replied.

"We have yet to sort out the finer details of our new working relationship. But, there is a phrase. Better the devil you know, than the devil you don't. Fury doesn't have the ability to use the stone and never will. No offense."

"None taken," Fury replied again, mildly annoyed.

"Whoever this is... is either expending a lot of effort to get our attention or is intending to use the stone... I would rather it be a museum piece, in a vault, or decorating the ocean floor."

"You neglected another option," Loki said, the same divisive smile still on his sharp features. She looked up and raised an eyebrow at him. Would he be so blatant as to announce his intentions to take the stone for himself? "Perhaps they are attempting to use the stone _and _draw our attention."

Isabel stared at him flatly as Loki's smile turned into a grin. He was playing with her - and he won this one. She rolled her eyes and folded her arms, leaning back in the chair.

"Where to, Isabel?" Barton asked from the front seat.

Shutting her eyes for a moment, she let herself focus. She could always feel the draw of the gem, but she had learned to ignore it over the years. "Two." The jet lurched into movement as he followed her direction. Feeling the tug return to 'center,' she waited. "It is some distance away... I don't expect we'll change course too abruptly."

She was trying to ignore the fact that Fury had sat next to her on the aircraft. Fury and Loki were currently locked in a staring contest.

"What's your play in all this, Loki. You don't think for one second that I'm actually stupid enough to believe you want to help us defeat Thanos."

"Thanos wants me dead, I have no desire to see him succeed. And as for assisting you - it gains me my freedom," Loki replied with a shrug.

"I thought freedom was 'life's greatest lie,'" Fury shot back.

Loki's face went cold, narrowing his eyes at the other man. "And being that I am the God of Lies, it is only appropriate that I would desire such a thing, would it not?"

Fury grumbled.

"Is the Man of Iron not joining us?" Thor asked from where he sat.

"He's not feeling well," Natasha replied, shaking her head. "Said he's still recovering. Don't blame him. It's not every day that... you come back from that."

And with that, all eyes were on her, silently. She began counting down in her head until one of them opened their mouths with a stupid question. She wasn't disappointed.

"So," Thor began, his face eager. "My lady - you can truly bring back the dead?"

"Seems that way."

"That is wonderful!" he exclaimed, laughing loudly and slapping his palms on his thighs.

"How so..?" she replied, confused at his excitement.

"You can bring back all those that were lost in the fight! We could bring back Coulson!" He looked so pleased with himself.

"I don't think-" she started, but was interrupted by Loki.

"Don't be a child, Thor," Loki snarled at his elder 'brother.' "You are embarrassing the Aesir race with your blatant and juvenile naivety. Were you not witness to what happened?"

"You know I was, but I fail to see-"

"Yes! That is true, you fail to _see,_" Loki's hands fisted in his lap, turning to face Thor. "Her gift is against the very nature of the universe. The dead are not _meant_ to rise. Such a thing is meant to be the exception, _not the rule. _Think of the damage it could cause if she were to wander about resurrecting every lost soul she came across?!"

"I don't think-" Thor tried to interrupted again, uselessly.

"And that is your other failure, _brother_, you fail to _think._ Tony Stark was dead but minutes and you see the suffering it caused his mind to come back from the other side. Even if you were to discount the damage such an act brought to Isabel, how do you think those that are dredged back from the other side would react when they have been dead for days - or years - or _centuries_. They may fight on Valhalla - and you seek to dredge them back to our petty squabbles?! Would you wish that on your worst enemy?!"

Thor stammered. "No... I..."

"I plead with you, again, as I did when we were children together. _Think before you speak._"

Thor looked as though he had been slapped. All those on the plane sat in stunned silence as Loki turned back to face center. The minutes dragged on as the only noise was the mechanical whirring of the aircraft and the sound of the wind.

"Well," Captain America said quietly, finally breaking the silence. "That was uncomfortable." He cleared his throat suddenly, and stood up. "Ms. Isabel, do you know how far away we are from the gem?"

She tilted her head thoughtfully. "I would say we are... halfway there."

"Good. Let's come up with a battle plan. We don't know who took the stone - security cameras show it as someone masquerading as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent."

"No, this person _was_ an agent," Fury corrected. "He's served for five years. Not stellar, not awful."

"So we have some long-term infiltrators. They've been waiting patiently - for what? They couldn't have known we would have the gem, _we_ didn't know we were going to get the gem."

"Director Fury," Isabel spoke, tucking a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. "May I ask if the soldier who shot Tony Stark was also a 'long-term infiltrator' - likely operating under the guidance of the same group - or was he a breach of security?"

"He... was... a security breach. We've been having a lot of those lately," Fury answered, frustrated.

"Only one, by my count," Isabel replied.

"How do you figure? We've had three."

"No. Two weren't your fault. The gem... speaks. It whispers to those weak enough to succumb to it. It's sentient - to a point. When it's not being worn, it's free to do as it likes - and it hungers often."

"Hungers for what?" Steve asked.

"Souls."

"Sorry I asked..."

"So this thing has been corrupting my agents? This would have been nice to know," Fury snapped.

"I'm sorry. I try to avoid that thing as much as I can."

"So... What else can it do? What're we walking into?" Steve spoke up again.

"The stone can tear out the souls of any living thing, command unbodied souls do do their bidding, place unbodied souls into any object - animate or inanimate - and devour souls in their entirety."

"Oh, that's all," Steve replied sarcastically.

"One other thing. If they truly learn how to use the gem - if they... they really master it - because part of my soul has been devoured by the gem, and because we are linked... To command the gem," she trailed off, seeing the realization dawn on Roger's face. The man was clever - far brighter than the other people in the room may realize.

"To command the gem is to command _you. _Giving them the power to raise the dead, and... put... random souls into the bodies they... Oh. So... we have a problem, is what you're saying."

"Yes, I suppose that is what I'm saying," she replied.

* * *

It was awkward, but not hard, to guide Clint to the exact location of the gem. He landed it as nearby as he could - a field about two hundred yards from where she felt them pass it. As they walked out into the darkness, the tall wet grass clinging to her arms, she looked towards where they were headed. It was hard to see - just groups of trees and low small buildings on a hill. As they began walking, she shivered. The night was overcast, unusually cold, and there was a slow, penetrating cold mist. She was still in just a tank top.

She jumped, visibly startled, as she felt something be placed around her shoulders. Turning, she saw Loki standing next to her. He had placed a long light grey coat around her shoulders. Smiling faintly, she put her arms through the sleeves, and hugged it closer to her.

"Thank you," she smiled at him. "That was very kind of you."

"You are welcome," he replied simply as they walked through the tall wet grass. It smelled like summer - but she could see her breath. Stupid New England weather.

"May I ask where you found it?"

"I conjured it."

She looked at him, the smile still on her face. "You are a magician, then?"

"I am," he responded. "I am capable of more than just illusions," his voice was suddenly bitter.

"I never said anything to the contrary, Loki," she reminded him gently. He was angry at his past, not at her. A thought dawned on her. "Why this color?"

"It matches your eyes."

It was simple, his response - betraying nothing. She watched his face, but was given no hint of any emotion or reaction. He just looked straight ahead towards their destination in the darkness. "How thoughtful."

They went quiet for a moment as they walked - her being careful not to slip in the tall grass or trip over a rock or a log. As they neared the grouping of trees and low buildings she suddenly realized exactly where they were. Or rather, what they were looking at. She stopped walking abruptly, and felt fear tighten around her stomach. Not for what she was looking at - but because of what it meant.

She laughed.

"What is funny?" Loki asked from beside her.

"It was either I laugh, I climb back into that plane and refuse to leave, or I be sick..."

"Why? Does this place mean something to you?"

"No - not this place specifically."

"Then why does it affect you so?" he asked, turning his green gaze down to her.

She smiled thinly, still staring straight a head. "Call it an inside joke..."

They were walking towards a very large cemetery, the stones just visible in the darkness against the paler green grass. The low buildings she saw were mausoleums, dotted around the winding twisting walkways and pavements. Taking a slow, wavering breath, she began walking again. Loki followed, closer to her now.

"Care to include me on this joke...?"

"All hail Lady Isabel - Queen of the Dead," she recited, half under her breath.

"I fail to see the humor," Loki said quietly.

"I never said it was a _good_ joke..."

"Loki... how many players do you think sit at this game board right now?" she changed the subject abruptly. Or, maybe she didn't. Let's see if he figured it out.

"Four."

"Correct. Who?"

"You, myself, Fury and his ilk and Thanos," he replied, clearly confused as to where this was going.

"Incorrect. I told you earlier - I do not play this game, Loki... I want everything in this world to be removed from it."

Loki narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Then who is the fourth player...?"

They were now walking on the pavement of the cemetery's walkways as she heard the sound of gunfire echo against the trees. She was suddenly yanked into cover by Loki, having grabbed her by the arm and wrenched her behind a tree, behind which he had also taken shelter. The gunfire, though, was too far away to have been aimed at them - whoever was firing, was firing at someone else.

"I think we're about to find out..."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I love cliffhangers. Sorry. :P And sorry I haven't had a chapter out in a few days - but tomorrow I will probably post quite a few. Thank you again for the lovely reviews! And Defender93, Tony should warm up to her now, at least a bit, but he's got a bit of a complex about these kind of things, and it might take some time.


	9. Chapter 9

"Come here," Loki said quietly, and threw an arm around her, pulling her close. Isabel's eyes went wide as she found herself pressed against him. "Be still and remain silent," he commanded. She looked up at him, about to either slap him or rebuke him for commanding her to do anything - but the tight look on his face said he was deep in focus.

"Alright," she heard Steve Rogers whisper loudly from the road. "Natasha, Clint, move up the west hill. Thor, take Isabel and head up the east ill. Loki... you're with me, we'll go up the center with Fury."

"If I must," replied Loki - but not the Loki holding so tightly on to her. She swiveled her head, and her eyes widened at the sight of not only a duplicate Loki standing in the center of the road, but a duplicate _her._

"My lady, it would be an honor," Thor said to the fake Isabel. The fake Isabel smiled, nodded, and gestured for Thor to lead. And with that, they walked off into the darkness. It felt like forever had passed before Loki let out the breath he was holding, and looked down at her with a sly smile.

"While my magic is far more than illusions, I cannot deny the illusions often come in handy," he said slyly down to her. "Now we have some privacy together in which we can talk." Isabel put her palms against his chest and gently pushed. Loki didn't let her go, a predatory grin slowly crossing his features. "My lady, I do believe you are blushing..."

"Loki," she said warningly. He smelled like leather and spices, and his body was warm against hers. She could feel the strength in his muscles as he kept her where she stood, bodies touching. She grit her teeth - he was too tempting. "Don't."

"Why not?"

"We don't have time for this."

"Ah, but that is not a denial of desire, is it. And here I thought you would be more inclined to chase the god of thunder... I am flattered by your want, my lady," he purred, his voice a combination of sarcasm and superiority. He shifted as he spoke, purposefully grinding his hip against hers, his hand sliding down to her lower back. She pulled in a quick hiss of air. God, he was overwhelming. The grin on his face was infuriating. He leaned his head in towards her ear, and whispered. "You likened yourself to a starving man - allow me to sate your hunger." She shuddered at the hot breath on her face.

"Your play is to seduce me now...? Is that it? I saw through your ploy of friendship, and now you wish to seduce me," she snorted, and put her palm against his chest and pushed. He withdrew his head, looking at her dubiously. "And while I am... sorely temped, and will not deny that - your seduction is as much of a lie as your friendship, Sir."

"Is it?" Loki reached up with one hand and gently ran it through her hair, his thumb slowly running along the line of her chin as he curled his fingers by her neck, and stroked the backs of them down the side of her neck. She let out a low groan despite herself. "Are you so sure...?"

She growled suddenly and slapped him hard in the center of his chest - she was sure he felt nothing, but it made an impressive noise against the black leather of his armor. "Will you quit it, you insufferable cretin," she snapped.

Loki laughed, and released her, holding his hands up in surrender. Isabel took a step back and straightened her clothing, and ran her own hand through her hair, if only to rid herself of the lingering sensation of his touch.

"I was not intending on that little... moment, my dear, but I fear I could not help myself. While true, seducing you would have... ah... strategic benefits... take pride in that I would not be suffering should you succumb," he smirked at her.

"Oh, please, the flattery," she rolled her eyes, sarcastically clutching her heart with both hands. "And you, Sir Wordsmith, I beg you to desist in your flowering poetry - surely I will faint with your gentle wooing."

Loki laughed harder, and pushed himself off of the tree where he had been leaning since summoning the doubles. Isabel was caught off guard as he took her chin in his hand and tilted it to his. She moved to pull back, but moved too slowly. His mouth crashed down on hers, and her knees nearly gave out with the force of his kiss. It was not gentle by any means - but not cruel. One hand cupped the back of her head, and the other was again at her lower back, pressing her into him. She gripped the front of his armor as her head swam. She had to stop this. She had to make him stop - this wasn't right, and they didn't have time for this. But dear god, it felt wonderful. Finally, he broke the contact and she pushed herself away, turning her back to him and putting her hand to her face, trying to slow her breathing and regain her nerves and composure.

"I will pay you no flattery, my dear - but I will give you the truth. In that, no other lady has ever been so bestowed upon. And I will tell you this," Loki's voice was low, but as she turned to face him, there was no mirth or predatory joy of the game on his features. "You are brilliant of mind and a worthy adversary. I enjoy our little... talks... more than perhaps you would realize. And..." he stalked towards her suddenly, causing her to stagger backwards. She backed into a large tombstone, a little harder than she anticipated, and found herself pinned between the marble and the God of Lies. He placed his hands atop the stone on either side of her, and leaned in towards her. He bent his head down close to her ear - not touching her. She was trembling now, and she swore at herself internally. She couldn't control it.

"Should you decide you ever wish to end your fast... I will be more than _pleased_ to give you your fill..." And with that, he was gone. The cold mist and wind returned as he stood away from her, and walked away from her, moving through the darkness. "Come now, we don't have time for this silliness," he said, turning to look at her with a grin. "We are here for a purpose, remember?"

Isabel growled deep in her throat and pushed away from the stone. She followed him, glaring at him none-too-kindly, causing him to laugh again. "Just walk," she shot at him before he could open his mouth again. "No more words out of you, just walk. I can see why they muzzle you."

He raised his hands in surrender again and walked beside her as they moved through the silence of the graveyard. There was no other sounds except their footfalls in the wet grass, and the dripping of water off of the leaves. It occurred to her that there were no sounds of battle - no more gunfire since the first instance.

"Who is the forth player at this game?" Loki asked her, keeping his volume low as they moved.

"I don't know."

"That is a lie, my dear, I know them when I hear them, do not forget," he said with a smile on his face.

"It isn't a lie. I don't know - while there are a few options, I am not certain."

"The man who shot Stark knew you - knew you for who and what you are. Who sent him?"

"Likely whoever the forth player is. As I said, there are options, but I am not certain."

"Who put that marking upon your back?" he asked abruptly. She grit her teeth and shot him an unhappy glance. Of course he would try to put it all together.

"One of those options... or at least, whatever's left of them."

"What do you mean?"

"The man that did this to me is dead. The man who put this symbol on my back and tore off a piece of my soul and fed it to that gem - he has been dead for some time... but he had friends."

"And he is the the same that created you - is he not?"

Isabel faltered in her steps, and then sighed. No point in being a sore loser. Shaking her head, she kept walking. "Yes. He is."

"Hm," Loki said thoughtfully as they neared the edge of a clearing. Loki saw the danger before she did, and she found herself yanked backwards sharply by the arm, as Loki ducked behind a large obelisk. He raised his finger to his lips, and she didn't argue.

Five men stood in the clearing - four holding high-powered rifles, aimed at the fifth. The fifth man was dressed in S.H.I.E.L.D. issue clothing... and had the soul gem around his neck. The stone glowed faintly green in the darkness. Blood ran from the corner of the lip and had a vicious smile on his face as he looked at the four men. He was heavily bleeding from a gunshot wound in the arm, but seemed to pay it no mind.

"Kneel, and we'll make you suffering brief," one of the men with the rifles said.

"You know nothing of _suffering,_" the man with the necklace said with the same vicious smile. "Do not insult the word with your petty and pathetic ideals. But, do not fear - your kind will be blessed with such knowledge very soon..."

"Give us the gem," the same man ordered again before continuing, "or we'll cut your head from your shoulders and take it ourselves."

"Oooh, I don't doubt you will... I don't doubt that you will walk away with this prize this evening... but I have not come to this place to talk to you. I have not come with a message for _you._" The former agent, still with the horrible smile, looked straight through the darkness to where they hid. She sighed again in frustration. Great. "Greetings - and who is it you have at your side...? Loki, my little defeated worm... come now from the shadows and speak with me..."

"Well, let's go meet players three and four, shall we?" Isabel sighed and walked out from the brush into the clearing, wiping a leaf off of her hand where it had stuck. She heard Loki following her. Two of the guns previously pointed at the agent were suddenly snapped in their direction.

"Stop where you are," one of the men with the rifles ordered, and both Isabel and Loki complied.

"Aaah... I was wondering what was taking you so long... Twice now, I have tried to speak with you, daughter of death."

"And I would be speaking now to Thanos, I assume?"

"You are no more speaking to Thanos than speaking to a strand of hair! I am merely using this vessel left empty by the stone to my own means!" the man bellowed. "Do not be so foolish, child!"

"I was merely speaking plainly. The body your... 'strand of hair' is occupying is burning quickly. You will not have long to speak. I thought it would be wiser to dispense with the honors and dignities given your current limitations."

"Human bodies are so _weak_ and annoying," he growled, and dug his own finger into the wound in his shoulder, sinking it in up to the second knuckle. If he felt the pain, it didn't show. With an audible sucking noise, he yanked his finger back out of the wound and chuckled at the resulting flow of blood. "But you are correct. Let us speak plainly. I have come with news for you, you who are so beloved of your mother." Isabel snorted. The agent's - or, now, rather, Thanos speaking through the agent's - face twisted up in confusion. "You mock her?!"

"No, I do not. I mock your assertion of love. Death cannot love any more than a flame can love. It is an element made sentient by the passage of souls. You may name a candle flame and profess your love to it, and it may seem to dance at your words, but it's your breath that makes it do so, nothing more."

"You _lie!_" the mad titan howled again, the soul gem around his neck flaring up. The man's face was twisted in a mask of rage. "You know nothing of your mother. I will attribute it simply to your _improper_ upbringing at the hands of foolish _humans _and forgive your false assertion at her emptiness."

"My mistake," Isabel said dismissively with a shrug. For who is the least sane, the madman or the one who argues with him? "I do not think you came here to talk to me about my parentage."

"No, I did not. I have come to _warn_ you."

"Have you now?"

"I would not see you harmed, daughter of my mistress - I would see you safely with me once this world is sacrifice. But there are those that seek to stop me... And not just the weaklings that rallied to stop my little worm on his child's quest." Thanos's gaze shifted momentarily to Loki, who only snarled. "You stand behind the lady, do you? How brave." His voice was thick with hatred and venom. Loki twitched as though he wished to lunge forward and kill the man, but only clenched his fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white.

"Stop goading him, Titan. Speak to me, as was your intention. Your physical body is close to death and grows pale."

"These men serve your 'King,'" Thanos replied, sarcastic as he rolled out the words.

It was her turn now to pale. She turned her head to look at the men bearing the rifles. "You lie," she said in a hiss.

"Prove my lie, then, child," Thanos said with an odd smile. "For we both wish it to be so."

Isabel clenched her jaw and then forced herself to relax - there was one way to find out. _"Immortalitatem regnat in numine - ut moriamur com fide," _she said firmly in latin, easily reciting the old familiar phrase.

_"Novit enim Rex qui sunt eius!_" The four armed men called back in unison.

Her hand flew to her mouth and she took a step back. "No..."

"You will be coming with us, my lady, once this is taken care of. Sir, step away from her, if you would be so kind," said one of the four, walking closer to her and Loki, the gun pointed into his face.

"I will feed you that gun if you take one more step towards us," Loki growled out. His form shimmered as he summoned his battle armor. The man stumbled backwards abruptly, clearly not knowing who he was speaking to.

"Such fools, the lot of you," Thanos laughed, and then made a face as the body's legs gave out, abruptly crashing to his knees. "There, see? I have followed your wish. I now kneel." Thanos laughed again, clearly having entertained himself, and locked eyes with Isabel. "I would see you free of your servitude... free of this gem. I could restore your soul... They seek to enslave you - to raise him to defeat me. They know he is the only one who stands a _whisper of a chance._"

"I won't do it," Isabel whispered, shaking her head. Tears were biting at her eyes, and her hands were trembling. Fear clutched her and she shut here eyes tightly, tears streaming down her face.

"Oh, such exquisite fear and sadness... from any other creature I would drink it with joy. But now you know-" he coughed suddenly, blood hitting the pavement. "your choice. He-" Thanos snarled. "Stupid mortal body, I can't-" and with that, the former agent died, collapsing to the ground. The gem around his neck went dark. One of the men with the rifles rushed forward.

"Stop right there," came a familiar voice from nearby. Fury stepped out from behind a stone, a handgun pointed straight at the man's head. "One more step and I'll drop you," he snarled. "You are out numbered, and surrounded. We have three master spies, a super soldier, two gods and whatever the _hell_ she is. Drop your damn weapons."

"As you command," the man replied. He slowly placed his rifle on the ground and stood up. "I am Victor Wilberforce, at your service," he said as he bowed low. "I extend my hand to you in friendship, Director Fury." Victor reached out.

"No!" Isabel yelled, and tried to jump forward to stop him - but it was too late.

A flash of light suddenly shot from the man's hand - like a flash grenade. Fury snarled and jumped back, swearing loudly. Isabel ducked her head, trying to shake the blindness from her eyes, as she felt someone grab her arm, drawing out a scream from her. "Come with us," an unfriendly voice snarled at her. "And don't be stupid."

"It's such a gift of mine, though," she snarled in response. She would not be taken by them. She placed her hand on the man's arm, and did the only thing she could think of. "I will not return to him. I will _not raise him!_" she grabbed the man's soul, and yanked - tearing it from his body. She couldn't see still, the world was spotty white and black as her vision struggled to recuperate from the flash, but she could see his soul well enough - she did not need her eyes to see it, after all. The man's soul screamed and thrashed as his physical body was locked still, wide-eyed and in shock. She grabbed the thin string of energy that connected the man's soul to his body, and snapped it in her hand. The man's soul shrieked, an audible scream of abject pain and fear - the scream was cut off abruptly as she released the two halves of the strand separating once holding the soul to the flesh. The man's body collapsed to the ground in a heap. She released his soul, and it dissipated slowly - disappearing like fog and going... wherever he was meant to go. She stood still for a moment - the weight of her act of violence slowly settling on her.

It was then that she realized that the rest of the fight had been raging around her. Of the four men - one - Victor - was gone. Another was on the ground, arms cuffed behind his back, with Steve Roger's foot on the back of his neck. Another man lay dead at Loki's feet. The forth lay at hers.

Thor looked at her, and she saw the fear etched on his face. He had been mid-run to save her, and came to a screeching halt as he saw the body of the man at her feet - he was alive, but his eyes and mouth were both locked wide in horror. "By the Gods... what have you done?"

Isabel wiped the tears from her eyes and staggered backwards away from the proof of her deed, and did the only sensible thing she could think of to do.

She ran.


	10. Chapter 10

The fight was quick - it was over before it began. Loki was hoping for something more, he was almost disappointed. Perhaps he did not relish the fight as much as Thor, but, he would not deny the joy he took in it. He was raised of Asgard after all. Loki had been looking to Isabel to stop her from something foolish when the flash of light had blinded most of them. He had reacted quickly, one of his knives sticking deep into the throat of the man to his right. The one who named himself 'Victor' was quick to snatch the soul gem from the corpse of the once-agent-once-Thanos. Rogers had pinned the third to the pavement. Loki moved to slit Victor's throat, but heard Isabel scream.

Loki turned to help her... but found that she did not need his help. He stopped, agog, and watched as she... tore the man's soul from his flesh, and severed his tie to his body. She did not kill him - his body still breathed - but it was an empty shell, now. Much the same as the soul gem had done to the two agents prior. She shared its gifts. _Of course she does,_ Loki scolded himself internally. _It shares hers. _She never did cease to amaze.

As the man collapsed to the ground, he saw her hands begin to shake. He wondered if she would collapse again, her powers having such a drain on her. But she was shaking not in weakness, now, but fear. He could see it in her wide-eyed expression, tears still staining her face. She had acted out of terror - and she was still afraid.

He took a gentle step towards her, seeking to comfort her, to calm her like the frightened deer she so resembled at this moment.

But, like many a childhood hunt spoiled, Thor blundered in. "By the Gods... what have you done?" his 'brother' asked, uselessly.

Loki watched as Isabel staggered backwards, turned, and bolted.

"You are an idiot," he said to Thor, shaking his head with a sigh. "I will retrieve her."

"You had better come back," Fury shouted at him as he walked away. "I won't be losing you, her, _and_ the gem _again._"

Loki waved his hand dismissively as he walked back through the brush after Isabel.

* * *

She had made it about three hundred feet before she realized she had no idea where she was, no clue where she was going, and was likely surrounded by more of Victor's men. She walked to a large stone statue, and sat down on the base - the stone was wet and cold, but she didn't care. She put her head in her hands, and focused on slowing her breath and calming herself down. But it was hard - her hands wouldn't stop shaking.

She felt someone crouch down slowly in front of her, and she nearly leapt a foot in the air. "It's just me." Gentle hands closed around her wrists, and she found herself looking into the face of Loki.

"'Just you'-" she laughed half-heartedly. "It's quite funny that I have found myself in a situation where that phrase has cause to be used..."

He only faintly smiled at her. "My brother meant not what he said. He is daft and does not think before he reacts. It makes him a wonderful warrior but a horrible tactician," Loki said with a small sigh, and knelt down in front of her, his hands still around her wrists. "He is also, sadly, unaccustomed to anything that one does not see upon the battlefield. You did what you needed to do."

She shut her eyes and lowered her head slightly.

"You effectively killed a man - no different than what anyone else here has done. Your method is just slightly more spectacular than most," he said. He could hear the smirk in his voice.

"I know Victor, Loki. I should have recognized him, but I didn't. He is.. older than I am. A close servant to the man who created me - his second in command - I saw him ripped to pieces before my eyes, and now he is... I don't understand how it's possible. No one else can raise the dead but me - not on any plane. Animate corpses, yes but-" she was babbling, shaking her head uselessly, and still trembling. Lord she was a mess.

"Shush, now. Let's not go through this here... Fury will no doubt demand your tale in full - he likely heard all of Thanos's 'message' to you before he saw fit to interrupt. There is no reason to relive this a second time," he said gently, his hands moving up to her shoulders. One moved to her chin to lift her head to look at him. She was surprised at the gentleness on his features. She wondered if it was a show - but beggars and choosers and so on. She smiled weakly at him as he removed his hand from her face. Loki stood up, gently helping her to her feet. "There. Come. Let us return to their aircraft and out of the rain. I despise being _damp."_

"Take me away from here, Loki," she said quietly. He stopped, looking startled at her words. He was almost taken aback. "Please. Thanos has planted the seed into Fury's mind, and Victor will drive the point home. They'll make me... they'll make me do the thing I vowed never to do. I have picked my jailor, Loki, please."

Loki sighed, and placed his hands on her shoulders again. "To what end, my dear? If we run, either Thanos or your 'friend' Victor will find us in time, either on this realm or another, it matters not. If we return to Fury, you will be forced to relive your past in words - and I will look all the more loyal, having returned with you willingly. Victor will likely be forced into the open as you are a part of his scheme. Then, I will kill him, take the stone, and then we will flee," Loki finished with a smile.

"You are so very proud of yourself," she said dryly.

"I am. And you are recovered well enough to walk if you are spending the energy to make snide comments at me," he replied playfully and began walking towards the direction of the aircraft.

"I doubt I will ever be so weakened as to not wish to make comments at your expense," she grumbled, and followed him. He was right. They couldn't run - it would only buy them little time and then they would be out of options. Thoughts crashed over each other in her mind as they walked. Thanos had promised her freedom - real freedom - and to mend her soul if she were to do nothing. He did not ask anything of her, only to keep her vow. It was tempting... sorely tempting... but likely a lie. She wrapped her arms around herself as she walked, grateful for the coat Loki had conjured for her. He kindly left her to her thoughts as they stepped from the last row of stones out into the field, the plane in view.

As they stepped up the metal ramp, she felt all eyes on her again. She took her seat silently, Loki sitting next to her. She would not be the first to speak.

"I apologize," Thor mumbled, and then coughed as he was elbowed by Romanov. He spoke louder. "I apologize, my lady. I did not mean to offend you. I have never seen anything... such as that, and I was caught off guard. Forgive me for my demeanor."

"You are forgiven," Isabel said with a small smile. She would have to thank Natasha for that later - if only because seeing the redhead put the god in his place was priceless.

"Good, now that we're all _friends again,_" Fury interjected, leaning forward, staring intently at Isabel, pinning her to the spot. "I want the whole goddamn story. And I want _the whole goddamn story right now._"

Isabel looked down at her hands, and leaned back slowly in her chair. "That is fair. I have put you and yours in danger too much already in my futile attempt to protect myself." She looked back at Fury. "It is a long story," she began.

"We have a long flight," he replied.

"I was created in eighteen fifty six. I am, by your count, a hundred and fifty seven years old."

"Created?" Natasha asked. "Not born?"

"Correct," Isabel sighed. "I was created through the use of powerful black magic... two entities were involved in my creation. The first, was death."

"That's impossible," Thor said quietly. "Death is not a _person."_

_"_Were you not a god to the mortals on this planet? Are you not a god to them still by many standards? Then what rules above you?" she asked. "What entities - what elements govern the universe as a whole?"

"The All-Father," Thor replied.

"Please... and what governs him? 'God,' as Rogers is most likely to offer? Death is an element - a force of existence, much like time, and the same as life itself. Only she is... sentient, to a point. When so many souls have passed through you, you begin to take the shape of the things around you.

"You are what you eat," Clint offered from the front seat. "Like the gem."

"A weird analogy, Mr. Barton, but... apt," she said with a small laugh. "Yes."

"And death - this is what Thanos is _in love with?!"_ Fury asked, his face a mask of disbelief.

"For better or for worse, yes. He said he plans to make this world a sacrifice. As Loki so perfectly phrased it earlier - all the lives on this planet and likely half the universe are to him only a bouquet of roses."

"That's... disgusting," Steve said from where he sat.

"That's love. I suppose that's what makes Thanos so dangerous - he does what he does not out of greed for power or lust for control, but out of love, pure and simple," Isabel said with a shrug. "Love destroys more than it creates."

"Alright, so, Thanos wants to be your father-in-law, great," Fury said. Isabel tried not to blanch at the thought. "So there's one half. Who's the other half?"

Isabel looked at him flatly. "The other entity involved in creating me is the _thing_ who Victor Wilberforce serves. He is the creature that those men have dedicated themselves. You have two of them in your custody and it will do you no good. They would happily martyr themselves for their cause."

"Yeah, we've figured that out. Go on."

"He has gone by many names... Asmodeus, Asmoday, Ashmedai, Asmodai... But he took a more... suitable name, a few hundred years ago," she paused for a moment, not wanting to say his name. But there was a certain numbing freedom in telling her whole story. There would be nothing left to hide. "Alester Solomon. He took the surname of the man he claims as his father."

"He... thinks... he's the son of King Solomon...?" Rogers stammered out. "That's not possible."

"Likely not, no. If there is any truth in his claim, he was likely summoned in the same way that Alester 'summoned' me to this world. It's written in a text that way, but, no one is sure. Either way, he is over three thousand years old... or was, before he died. Victor was Alester's second in command, and he... wants me to bring him back. That much is clear."

"Is Alester a threat?"

"More than any you have ever faced before," Isabel said quietly, clenching her hands to keep her fingers from trembling. "He would put this world to heel. It took great sacrifice to put him in the grave - I vowed never to let him return. I will _not_ raise him."

"Could he defeat Thanos?" Fury asked. "If so, we should really consider-"

Isabel glared at Fury and interrupted him. "You do not decide the fate of this earth! You think Alester will be any more kind to the human race than Thanos?! You know _nothing_ of his cruelty."

"If what you're saying is true, he lived on this earth for _three thousand years_ and I don't see any damage done, hell, I hadn't even known his name before," Fury replied angrily.

"Only because you do not pay attention! For three thousand years he worked his evil and we have seen the path of humanity guided by his unseen hand. He thinks himself your _shepherd and King. _He does not take the throne for those who carve themselves a seat of gold and stone will only ever see their reign ended. He rules from the shadows - always has, and always will."

"I would rather that than being obliterated," Rogers said quietly, shrugging. "At least we can keep an eye on this... Alester."

Isabel put her head in her hands, feeling the weight pressing down on her. They were already falling for it - and the man was still dead. She raised her head slowly, but kept her gaze on the floor. "When I was created by Alester and death, he placed me in the care of a mortal family - they were happy to have a daughter, and they served him. For he was the Prophet and Shepherd. They knew what I was, what I was meant to be, and they gave me my name and raised me. They loved me. And, I, in turn, loved them as my parents. When it was time, Alester came and claimed me. For he had a grander vision for my life - after all, it was he who fashioned it." She paused as she took a slow breath.

"He did not kill them - no, that would be too blatantly cruel. For those two served him well. I lived to see them age and die, as is the curse of all children. He would feign kindness, feign love and loyalty, for it is that much harder to see him for the demon he is when he shows those around him such courtesy and love.

You all saw the shape upon my back - it will have been hard to miss," she said bitterly, "as it must have shone like a christmas light when I brought Stark back from death. It was Alester who _gave_ me that symbol. Upon taking me from my home, in the middle of the night, he took me to one of his ritual halls. There, he lashed me between two posts and stripped me nude before his _congregation._ He took a thin bladed knife and he carved that symbol into my flesh," she winced at the memory of it - at the slow, methodical drag of the knife through her flesh, all the while the calming whisper in her ear of a voice that haunted her in her dreams. "And when he was done he poured this - I don't even know what it was, to this day - into the wound. It burned.. It burned unlike..." she stopped herself, and shook her head. "At first the burning was only figurative, but not to be outdone, he lit the salve aflame.

As the fire died, that is when I felt it. That is when I felt him _sever a piece of my soul._ He took it from me and fed it to that godforsaken gem. No more troublesome to you than maybe a piece of a finger. You can live without it - you will hardly even notice it is gone after a time - but it will always serve as a reminder to you, and to everyone else, what precisely you have lost - _what you have had taken from you._" Her eyes had glazed over as she was no longer seeing the floor of the ship - she was reliving the pain. A tear streaked down the corner of her eye, unbidden. She was not one to cry, but she had shed many tears this night. She continued. "He took that piece of my soul and put it into the gem he wore to remind me, every waking and dreaming moment of my life who holds my chain. Never did he once raise his hand to me - never did he once use that stone to cause me pain. But his is a violence unlike any other," she said, her voice haggard. "I will not raise him from the dead. I would rather see this world a black pit, and see every living soul on this earth blinked into nothingness than to let them live under such a _lie,_" she finished with a hiss. She looked up at Fury, her eyes refocusing on him. "So do not speak to me of things you do not understand. And do not think for one _moment_ that you sit in a position to command me to do anything I do not wish to do."

To her shock, no one spoke. She leaned back in her chair and with a growl of frustration, wiped the tear from her cheek. She wouldn't look at Loki, who was watching her. She couldn't cope with him. He was too much of a muddled mix of emotions for her to throw that into the mix right now.

"Hey, Isabel," Barton said from the front of the plane. "You want to come up here with me? I got an empty seat."

She raised an eyebrow. He might as well have been asking her if she wanted to order takeout from the casual tone in his voice. But, it got her out of the stares of everyone else in the plane. So, she stood, and walked up towards the front of the plane and sat down in the co-pilots seat. She looked out the window at the stars as they were flying above the cloud cover.

"Hell of a story," Clint said. Isabel didn't respond. It was a few moments before Clint spoke again. "Y'know, I don't disagree with you, for what it's worth." She turned to look at him then, his face was a blank unreadable mask, but there was something in his eyes. She didn't know what. "I think I'd rather be dead than a slave. But a lot of people probably wouldn't make the same decision. I mean, if they could live happy and all. That's what was so shitty about what Loki said when he tried to take over the world - that humanity would rather be ruled than live free. If people had to choose between death and slavery, I think a lot of people would pick slavery."

"I don't doubt you're correct, Mr-"

"Oh for fuck's sake, just call me Clint. Or Hawk. Please don't call me 'Mr. Barton.' Mr. Barton is my dad," he said with a smile.

Isabel laughed despite her mood. "Very well. I don't doubt you're correct, Clint, but I cannot raise him."

"I know you can't. I know you've got a vow. And I know it's the worst possible thing in this world that could ever happen to you... And from what you've said, this Alester guy is a first class asshole. And look, what I'm about to say, please don't take it personally. What he did to you was shit - absolute shit. But we've all been through shit here - every single person on this plane has suffered through something awful - and if there's one thing I've learned there's nothing to be gained from trying to be the person in the room who's shit reeks the hardest."

"That's a disgusting metaphor," she said quietly.

"Yeah, I do that," he grinned. "What I'm trying to say is, you're surrounded by people who haven't had it too great either. Hell, if you want to compare 'mind-fuck' notes with Natasha I'm sure she could tell you a tale or two."

"I'm sure she could."

"And, so, I guess my point is," Clint blinked. "Okay, so, my third attempt at getting the point is," he corrected himself - which got another laugh out of Isabel. "Is it really your call? I mean, you're making the decision for six billion people here. If this Alester guy - assuming he'd even help us take Thanos down - could be the make-or-break on this fight... I hate... I hate to say it, I know you're the daughter of death and all so you probably feel like you _do_ get to make the call, but... is it really your decision to make?"

Isabel shut her eyes for a long moment before looking back over at Clint. "I stand by my vow, but... your point has been made, and... I will consider it..."

"All I ask," was his simple reply.

And with that, the plane descended back into silence. Although she didn't know which was worse - the banter, or her own thoughts.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Hey all - thanks again for the follows and the reviews! I might try to get a third one out today, let's see. :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Notes:** Thank you all again! I'm so happy you're all enjoying this - I'm having a blast writing it. I'm trying to keep Loki from being 'tamed' but without painting him to be completely nasty. It's a hard balance to keep, I do my best.

Another cliffhanger. I know. I just can't help myself. Enjoy!

* * *

They hadn't locked her up _per se, _ but it was near enough for her tastes. Ever since her return to the helicarier the day prior, she had been tasked with having two guards follow her at all times. Armed guards. (She pointed out to Fury that she could, if she needed to, rip their souls out of their bodies and leave them empty, and then their guns would be meaningless, but by his glare, it was clear that he had apparently missed that she was joking.) So instead of being carted around the ship with her entourage, she preferred sitting in her quarters, reading on her kindle. It was a good enough escape that she could almost pretend that her world wasn't dissolving around her.

The rum and coke didn't hurt, either. She took a sip from her glass and flipped the digital page.

She looked up at the knock on the door. Only a matter of time before someone broke her solitude. "Come in," she called.

What she hadn't expected was who exactly came through.

Tony Stark shut the door behind him, and instantly walked to the decanter of dark liquid she had sitting on a counter, and poured himself a glass without even saying hello. He finally turned to look at her, and she gestured to a nearby chair. Her quarters, for a flying fortress, weren't poorly furnished by any means. He took a seat and sip of his drink at the same time.

"So, Fury filled me in on your little adventure yesterday with the Scooby Squad. Now you've got a pair of goons standing outside your door. In case my vote counts - which I _really_ think I get at least two votes because of my intelligence - I say leave the asshole in the ground where you put him."

"I appreciate the sentiment, thank you," she chuckled faintly. Everyone had been treating her like a ballot count - eager to make their case for their idea of whether or not she should resurrect Alester or not. She tried not to dwell on it, as there was no pleasant outcome. "And I will grant you two votes in this imaginary polling."

Tony grinned at her, and took another sip of the rum, and then made a face. "Ugh. Really? And military issue, too."

"It was all they had. Yours was better."

"Damn skippy."

Isabel laughed quietly again, smiling. When he was in a good mood, he had the ability to take everyone with him, it seemed. A wonderful gift. "How can I help you, Mr. Stark?"

"See, here's the thing. I didn't think I'd be in the 'let's try and kill Thanos on our own and if we fail, he destroys the earth' side of the argument, 'cause - damn, there's an argument going on right now - I'll admit it. Fine. I'm afraid of death. I don't like the thought of dying. Or, really, honestly, anybody I like dying. And then, and then I had to go ahead and die," he said, his jovial expression fading. "It wasn't fun."

"No... it isn't."

"And see, normally I'd get mad at people for pretending they 'understand' because... no, nobody really does. You do, though. You get it. You've died. Probably a whole bunch of times."

"A few, yes," she replied with a faint smile.

"See, that's what gets me sometimes, though. Other people. People try to tell me they 'understand' about what I went through in that desert with this piece of shrapnel in my chest. People try to tell me they 'understand' my anxiety because of my fall through that wormhole. And now people try to tell me they 'understand' my problem with the fact that I _died_ on that floor and now I'm back - but they don't get it. They really don't understand, because _they weren't there._ It didn't happen to _them. _So if you tell me - if you honestly look me in the face, and tell me that this guy Alester is _worse than death. _If you can seriously promise me that we couldn't put him back in a hole afterwards - that he's _that _dangerous and _that _unstoppable... I'm going to believe you. And I'm going to say we leave him where he is."

She could almost feel the weight of what he had said land on her shoulders like bricks. She looked down into her drink. "And the problem is, Mr. Stark... I can't. I cannot promise you that his reign would be worse than oblivion... only that I would personally prefer it."

"Well, then you've got to think long and hard, hun."

She shut her eyes, and felt a tear escape. She growled and swiped it away angrily - she had shed far too many tears recently. She thought herself so strong, and here she was weeping like a child at every confrontation.

"Aw, shit, please don't cry. I hate it when girls cry. Worse when I'm the reason why. Gets me all... I hate it when I'm actually at fault for something.

She laughed, and smiled weakly at him. "It's not your fault, Mr. Stark-"

"Tony. You can call me Tony now. You did bring me back from the dead after all."

"Tony. It's not your fault. I will admit that I'm terrified... that's why I'm upset."

"I can see why. This jackass looms over life since day one, tortures you, enslaves you, and you've been free of him for a while now. Why would you want that back? It sucks. But I can promise you that me and the Superfriends aren't going to give you up if you do bring him back."

"Why would you help me? You've expressed nothing but disdain for me."

"Yeah, about that. I'm sorry. You... you wig me out, lady, you really do. I'm not going to lie. You give me the heebie-jeebies. You still do. You can talk to the dead and apparently now you can rip people's souls out which is just - eeeeeughk."

She laughed hard as he pretended to wipe some manner of insects off of his arms. "I'm surrounded by flatterers."

"But, here's the thing, you did me a huge favor. You brought me back. I was so not ready to die - and you could have let me. No one would have known the difference then. But you took a huge risk, outed yourself, and glued me back together. I can't not say that was a stand-up thing to do, especially since how I'd treated you. So as far as I figure, like I said, we're buddies. Even if you do give me the willies."

"I... appreciate that, thank you," she said with another smile.

"Good. We're settled out then," he said and then downed the remainder of the drink, made a gagging face, set the glass down and stood up. "Gotta go - Banner and I are working on tracking some weird gamma signatures coming in. We think Thanos is trying to triangulate structures and surges of radiation to open up a portal without the use of the Tesseract."

"I'll pretend like I understood what you just said," she sipped her own drink. "How long do you think we have before Thanos figures it out and invades, by your guess?"

"Few days. So you've got _plenty_ of time to think."

"Oh yes... plenty."

And with that, Tony left. As the door shut, Isabel pushed herself up to standing and walked to her window, looking over the ocean and the sky, and thought about it all blinking into nothing - being wiped out into oblivion. So much life lost. So much innocence destroyed. And then she thought about freeing Alester... and condemning herself, and the waking world as a result. The shepherd indeed. She lent her head against the glass, and felt suddenly so very alone.

* * *

He didn't often get visitors. Especially visitors that didn't knock. Loki looked up from the tome that sat in his lap, his eyebrow raised, as Isabel stepped through the door and shut it quietly behind her. "I am sorry to be so rude," the young woman began quietly, and did not look at him. How odd. She always met his eyes - never standing down. Even when she lost their little battles of wits, she stood her ground and accepted her defeat. But now, she looked like nothing more than the servants who would bustle around his chambers unnoticed as a child. He knew her better than to think she was so easily cowed.

"What is wrong?" he asked, shutting the book with a quiet thump and letting it vanish back into the tiny pocket dimension from whence he had pulled it.

"I needed company," she admitted, now glaring at the wall in embarrassment. He chuckled and stood from his chair, walking towards her.

"And in a ship filled with thousands, with many an ear willing to listen to your confessions, you chose me - I am touched," he bowed at the hip, knowing that his ostentatious gesture would raise her ire. And in her ire, would come her fire, and he loved to watch the fire in her eyes.

But he frowned as he received no such reaction. She merely moved to walk past him without a response. He caught her arm and turned her to face him, now almost worried about her. "What is wrong..?" he asked, his voice now showing his sincere concern - something that surprised himself. He was not as cold-hearted and untouchable as some would lead him to believe, but he was far above the casual sentiment that many adhere to. But she was strong, and worthy of a fight, and he would not see her so easily defeated - especially by something other than him.

"They want me to bring him back, Loki. And they're right - it's not my decision to make. I'd be condemning this world to death, and it's not my place," she said, still not looking at him, but rather at his midsection. True, he was tall - taller than her by a head, but she was just avoiding his face.

"If you brought him back, what then? Take me down that path, as I do not clearly see its outcome as you do," he said quietly, and took her hands in his. He lead her to the chair he was sitting in, and gently guided her to sit down, and pulled over the foot stool and sat atop it himself. This placed them on an more even height. He was winning her - he took deep pride in that. She knew his game, knew him for what he was, and yet here she was, with him.

"He is, I think, a better liar than you," she said, and looked up as he scoffed. "Don't take that personally. But he is... a monster. He inspires the love and devotion of everyone around him, I have never seen groups of people so viciously dedicated to him. He uses that power for awful means... he has caused the deaths of hundreds of thousands... if not millions. He sees himself as the personal shepherd of humanity and takes it upon himself to 'teach' his 'flock,'" she said, disgust hardening her voice. "So many wars were started, secretly in his name and at his direction. He plays both sides from the middle and tries to 'enlighten humanity' about its own short-falls and horrors by causing the worst of atrocities. You do not know much of man's history, so I will not bore you with the details... but many a genocide has been caused under his tutelage under his false flag. He claims that once humanity has learned its final lessons and is ready to lead itself he will 'retire,'" it was her turn to scoff. "But he lives for the adoration of the fools that serve him."

"I see," Loki said quietly. He was sure he would have no need to repeat her words to Fury - his room was under constant surveillance, and was likely being fed live to him at this moment. Loki grinned inwardly at the awkward scene he could cause if he tried to bed the girl here and now. He almost wanted to try, just for the laugh at watching Fury's face the next time they met.

"And as for me...? He would enslave me again, as he did before. I would have no choice. He commands the gem as if it is part of himself - he controls it too fully for me to have any argument against it."

"Must he have the soul gem, if he is to be raised?"

"No, but I would like to see who would keep it from him," she laughed, an unhappy, bitter laugh.

"I have so many tricks up my sleeve, my dear," he said with a smile that widened when she looked at him in shock. "I will keep you, and the gem, from Alester's hands if you are forced to raise him. I will not lie to you, we are outnumbered if Thanos invades with his full force. Earth will die if we do not have assistance. Asgard has promised its aid, but even then there is very little we can do to stop him. Do you believe Alester is strong enough to defeat Thanos?"

Isabel nodded mutely. "Not alone... but yes. He is. He has never once felt defeat and I doubt he would let the Titan change that..."

Loki reached out, and ran his hand slowly through her hair. It was soft, and he enjoyed the waves it created around her face. He would not deny that she was beautiful - he wanted her. He wanted her power, her brilliance, her strength. And he was winning her. He would not let some ghost take that from him. "I will vow to you now... that should he walk this earth again, I will not let him interrupt our little game. I am having far too much fun to let you go just yet," he said with a grin that brought a flush to her face.

"Loki, I-" she never got the words out of her mouth as he silenced them abruptly. The look of shock on her face as he kissed her was priceless - twice now, she didn't see it coming. He wrapped an arm around her lower back and pulled her forward. He was stronger than her by far - pulling her onto his lap was like nothing to him. Her legs were forced to straddle his waist as he pulled her closer, crushing her mouth against his. Her hands weakly grabbed hold of his armor as he plundered her mouth, savoring the taste of her skin as she parted her lips.

It was his turn to be startled as he felt her bite down on his lip, not hard - but enough to illicit a growl from deep in his throat. "You wanton beast," he growled into her ear as he moved his lips to her throat. She did not resist him, but tilted her head to allow him further access. She wanted this, same as he. He would not be so childish to profess any manner of love for her - but his desire was not a lie, and she seemed to appreciate it for what it was.

"I am not _wanton," _she said breathily. "Brazen, perhaps... but hardly wanton..."

"Ah, my mistake," he muttered as he let his teeth graze her skin. She hissed as he did, shifting in his lap - which brought another low growl from his throat. Yes, certainly, his desire for her was no manner of lie, and she just reminded him of that. He moved his hand along her shoulder, his thumb barely touching her skin, as he gently pushed the strap of the black tank top and her undergarment off of her shoulder. He waited to see if she would protest, but she did no such thing. Grinning in his victory, he leaned her back just slightly as he bent his head down, and kissed the swell of her breast - which rose and fell with her quickened breath. She was a heady creature, and by the nine realms, she was _fun._

She gasped again as he ran his tongue slowly along the swell of her breast. Her hand was then in his hair, and she pulled his head back up to meet her lips - this time it was she who kissed him with a need as though she would try to take the breath out of him. When she finally broke the kiss, it was his turn to be astonished. "Brazen indeed," he purred into her ear quietly.

"What can I say," she said with a faint smile. "I'm starving."

He grinned wide and kissed her again, his tongue now slipping past her lips and into her mouth. He wondered how those wonderful lips of hers would feel around his-

"Loki, report to the conference room on level 4-B," came a female voice over the loudspeakers.

Loki broke the kiss and sat back, sighing.

"And bring Isabel if you _don't mind," _added the irritated voice of Director Fury.

"Oh god," Isabel muttered, lowering her head against his shoulders. It had just occurred to her. "We're on camera."

"Indeed I think we are, my lady," he replied, unable to keep the grin off of his face.

"And you knew." It wasn't an accusation, and it wasn't angry. Just a simple statement.

"I had my suspicion."

"I didn't pick you for an exhibitionist," she looked up at him, a familiar look of angry embarrassment on her face.

"Mm, it was... amusing. Come now, before he grows more angry."

"I don't know if that's possible."

* * *

Isabel walked beside the God of Lies as they made their way to the conference room. She should have felt shame at what she had done - stupidity at going to him in a moment of weakness, and not expecting him to take advantage of it. Isabel watched him as he walked, half a step ahead of her. She wasn't sure if she cared if he took advantage of her - she enjoyed it. And there was no denying that she wanted him - apparently he wanted her all the same. Lord, it had felt wonderful.

There was not a doubt in her mind she would have 'seen it through' if they were not interrupted. She didn't know whether to curse Fury or thank him. Probably both. There was one other thing she was hiding - something she didn't want to admit to herself, let alone the world. Something she didn't want to tell Loki, for fear of how he would react.

She was enjoying his affections... even if they meant nothing in a sentimental sense. They were freeing - wonderfully distracting - and had very much been missing from her life for a very, very long time. And he had vowed to 'steal her' and the gem if she was forced to raise Alester. She wanted to believe him. Wanted to think that he could do it - that his mastery of deceit could fool even him.

As they walked into the conference room, she instantly staggered back at what she saw and made to run down the hallway, but the two goons with guards blocked her way. She glared at them. "Out of my way, the both of you."

"No ma'am, sorry ma'am," one of them replied sheepishly.

"You know what I am - what I am capable of doing - get out of my way or else I will _tear the living soul from your body!_" she snarled in rage.

"I... I... I'm sorry, we're under orders-" the brave one stammered.

"Come, now," Loki said from beside her. "They themselves are heavily guarded..."

"Which means nothing, you know that!"

"Just... be still," he said quietly into her ear. "I will keep you from harm..."

"I hope you're right," she replied faintly. There was no running - even if she killed those two guards, where would she go from there? Others would riddle her full of holes and she's wake in a cell. And then it would be over for her. She straightened her back, raised her had, and calmed herself. "I apologize, you are only doing your duty... I overreacted. I would have not brought you harm," she said to the guards.

"Accepted, ma'am, no harm done," the brave one said with a shaky smile.

She nodded once, and stepped into the room... and turned her attention towards the man seated at one end of the table - and into the eyes of Victor Wilberforce.


	12. Chapter 12

There sat Victor Wilberforce across from Fury, the soul gem around his neck. The arrogant man had worn it over his clothing. She kept the look of disgust from registering on her face - but only barely. He appeared utterly unchanged from when she last saw him. He wore the straight-lined, un-collared clerical shirt that he favored, a black tab collar neatly inserted in the front. With it he wore a double-breasted vest, a thin silver chain running to the pocket from the fob tucked into the button hole at his center. Victor's close-cut blond hair was also as she remembered. She knew how hard it was to change 'with the times' but at least she had made an attempt. And he had not come alone - another man she recognized very well sat beside him. They had several guns pointed at them - what good that would do. Fury was at the head of the table, and he sat with Romanov, Banner, Stark, and Captain Rogers. Clint stood against one wall, bow in hand.

"Sit, please," Fury said to them both.

"It has been some time... it is good to see you are well, my lady. I hope the years have been kind to you," the man to Victor's left spoke up. He was an older looking man, appearing to be in his forties, grey hair touching his temples, and was similarly dressed. His voice was warm, and she knew him to be sincere.

"Hello Jacob," she replied, but did not return his sentiment as she took her seat, as far from Victor and Jacob as she could manage. Loki followed suit.

"Do you place her under your protection, God of Lies?" Victor spoke directly to Loki, who slowly turned his attention to the man, resembling the snake he was often depicted as, and placed one palm against the table. When he spoke, it was with no small amount of venom.

"What I do is none of your concern, _human._"

"In fact, it is. I am merely asking if you are placing her under your protection. If you are, we should speak in private about some... unforeseen consequences I wish to avoid befalling you."

"Your concern is touching," Loki said with a sinister smile.

"And why would I need to be under his protection, Victor? I thought you and yours never meant me any harm."

"You know how... unfortunately territorial Lord Solomon can be. I am only trying to avoid unnecessary conflict."

"There will be no _conflict, _Victor, when-"

"Excuse me-" Fury interrupted, smacking his hand on the table. "Why is it I always get the feelin' that I haven't been invited to my own damn party?!"

"My deepest apologies, Director Fury," Victor said, turning his attention to him and bowing his head lightly. "It is rude of me, to query after other business under your hospitality."

Isabel scoffed. "Please - you speak of hospitality. Do you realize how many weapons you have trained on you in this moment?"

"Several. And many of them not guns, I am aware," Victor returned, and leaned back in the leather chair. "But it is hospitality regardless. I inquired of the Director if he would be willing to discuss our involvement in the events of late, and he agreed. We seek to come to a mutual agreement regarding the resurrection of Lord Solomon."

"It will not come to pass."

"So you say." He steepled his hands in front of him, a habit of his that she detested. She often wished she could reach across the table and snap one of his fingers - but she lacked both the strength and likely the violent tendencies to follow through with that wish. But oh, how she wanted to. "He has one half of the equation. We have the other half. His remains. It took us more than seventy years to reassemble all of his parts - but we managed. I commend you on your ingenuity."

"I had help," she muttered.

"Yes, we know. But he is long since dead and far beyond even your reach and he will be of no help to you now."

"Watch your words and be careful when making idle threats," Loki snarled, his face darkening.

Victor nodded his head, barely, in admission of his threat, before continuing. "Allow me to extend my formal concession to you, Director Fury, for the life of your agent and our meddling in your recent affairs."

"I'm kind of fine, if you haven't noticed, but thanks for trying," Stark commented from where he sat.

"No, I do not mean you, Mr. Stark, I mean the young driver we were forced to gun down in the street."

"That was _you?!_" Fury snapped.

"Yes, but, seeing as one of our men died at your hands, one by hers, and two are now in your custody, I feel as though we are parallel in our losses."

"And do you care to explain exactly _why _you felt the need to gun him down?" Fury asked.

"To set all this in motion. I needed a way to expedite your introduction to Ms. Isabel, and our gentle nudging was not proving to be effective enough. With the encroaching signs that doomsday is upon us, it seemed prudent to... accelerate matters. It was easy enough to have him murdered - a harder trick indeed to intercept the communication methods to avoid word reaching your organization before we felt it was appropriate."

"He's worse than you," Tony said to Isabel.

Isabel smirked. "He's a Harvard man."

"Back in the days when that meant for something, yes," Victor replied coldly.

"The sheer quantity of pretentious erudition may have changed, Victor, but the flavor of it remains the same," she said with a small smirk.

He smiled back at her, and bowed his head again in concession. "Perhaps."

"The fact remains, though - I will not raise Alester, no matter how you have managed to convince them that it is our only chance at survival."

"You neglect to realize that I am wearing the gem - and I am still possessing of my soul."

"It had crossed my mind, thank you," she replied bitterly.

"What then gives you reason to believe you have a choice in this matter at all?"

"Mind your tongue," Loki snarled again. "Or I will remove it from your mouth."

"I think you _do_ take her under your protection, God of Lies. I am stunned. Have you taken a liking to our dear Isabel? I warn you, it will end poorly for you," Victor said with a superior smile, not too disimilar from Loki's. Christ - those two would battle until the end of days if it were allowed.

"Quit it, the both of you," Fury interjected again. "I've seen what happens when I send you to your room, Loki, don't make me do it a second time."

Isabel would have blushed if she a weaker woman. Loki just looked pleased with himself, and Victor had a flash of anger cross his face. That put a smile on her face if nothing else.

"Victor, please, do not pick a fight," Jacob plied gently at his friend. "They are our allies, even if they do not see it as such. We have a common goal. We seek to save the human race from the destruction this... 'Thanos' would bring on us. Isabel, please, allow us a chance to survive."

"Jacob, you do not know what you ask," she said, forlornly. Not more of this. Please, no more of this. She couldn't stand any more of their arguments... perhaps because she felt her own resolve weakening.

"Yes, I do - do you think I do not know what you have suffered? I was witness to the... the incident that marked you, I know the crimes he has committed. No one is without sin, Isabel - to be without sin is to be as God, and even Lord Solomon is not God. Nor has he ever claimed to be so - you yourself know that to be true. But this Thanos wishes for the control of all the universe, of all the powers within it - only to destroy it. That is to play at being God, my lady. And he must be stopped. Do you think this realm will be the only that Thanos will obliterate...? If that were so, I would say to let us fight for our own fate, and let humanity succeed or fail, with no other assistance. But he knows no limits, honor or conscience."

"The freak's got a point, Izzie," Tony interjected. She looked up at him quizzically. "That's right, it was only a matter of time before you scored your own nickname," he grinned.

"Fair enough," she said with a shake of her head.

"Bringing this guy back gives us a _chance,_ Isabel," Fury brought the focus back around to him. "A chance we don't have otherwise. And it buys us time. If Solomon's going to be a threat, we'll deal with him, but we don't know that for sure. Maybe seventy years dead can change a man," he said with a shrug.

She kept eye contact with Fury for some time - and he met it, unflinchingly. Either he had something planned that he was not willing to discuss in front of their 'company,' or he was convinced. She sunk back into her chair. "Is this what you ask of me, then, Director Fury...?"

"Yes," he replied.

"You wish for me to raise Solomon from the dead, on the hopes that the suffering we will incur later will be lesser than that which face now."

"Yes."

"Do you realize how foolish that sounds?"

"Not the dumbest thing I've ever done."

"I really hope you're correct in that. I need to think this over," Isabel said quietly as she pushed herself up to standing and made for the door.

"You don't have much time, you know..." Banner said quietly, looking at her nervously. "I - I've run the numbers. We have about... maybe twenty-four hours now before Thanos breaks through with a portal. He'll only have one shot, but... it's a big shot. He's started a chain reaction, though, that we can't undo. This has been building up since New York - maybe if we had known about it then, but... the traces were so low, even I couldn't pick them up, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Isabel said with a warm smile.

"I know, but... I'm just sorry in general," he said with a blink.

"I appreciate that. May I take a few hours to think?" she asked Fury.

"I guess if that's what you need, that's what you gotta do," Fury replied and gestured towards the door.

She had made it twenty paces down the hallway before she heard a voice from behind her.

"Isabel, wait, please," Jacob called. She stopped walking, but couldn't turn around. Her heart was already too full.

"Please, Jacob, don't," she lowered her head, her hair falling along the sides of her face. She felt him walk up behind her.

"I have missed you - Victor is an arrogant boy, he always has been, but he misses you too - I suppose it's my fault, letting him think so highly of himself. But I have learned that he lashes out in his arrogance when he is wounded. He was wounded greatly at your betrayal, but his wound is made the greater still because of fondness of you."

"It wasn't betrayal," she hissed angrily, snapping her head to look up at him.

"I know it not to be, Isabel... but Victor did not at the time. You have to pity the boy - you were like a sister to him - and you murdered him."

It would have been better if Jacob had physically struck her. She felt her stomach clench in pain as he said the words, and she shook her head slowly in denial. "I had to..."

"I know that... he knows that now."

"How did he survive?"

"Lord Solomon's last gift. He could have saved himself, you know. He knew you were going to turn your back on us all and seek his destruction. Solomon could have guarded himself against the method you and your ally used to defeat him - but he guarded my son instead... He saved Victor's life out of loyalty and love for the both of us."

"Or, because he knew that he can never truly die - which cannot be said for Victor," Isabel replied, the pain quickly replaced by anger. "Can you not see that?! If he knew what Uriel and I planned to do, so much so that he could guard against it, do you honestly think that-" she groaned as she felt it all click into place. She leaned back against the wall, and placed a hand to her face. "I am a fool."

"No, turtledove," he said, using his old pet name for her from her childhood. "You are no fool.. and you never have been. You wanted your freedom, and he knew it was only a matter of time until you took it. He told me once that he hoped that time would come that you would forgive him his deeds."

"Now is not that time," she returned, lowering her hand and meeting his gaze again.

"That may be, but we need him, your forgiveness notwithstanding, I'm afraid."

"I will not return. Things cannot be as they were."

"I have long since had Lord Solomon's ear. If you raise him, if you agree to do this, I will council him strongly to allow you your freedom... It is the least I could do for that little girl I love whose dreams were destroyed that night. You may not have been born of my brother's blood, Isabel, but you are still my family," Jacob said quietly, and the look on his face would have torn her heart out and scattered its broken pieces on the tile.

"Uncle, I'm scared," she said, barely above a whisper.

"I know," he replied, his eyes welling as he pulled her into an embrace. She didn't fight him - didn't want to - and returned his hug. He smelled like memories - she wondered how he still found the same cologne after all these years.

"If the worst should come to pass... if he is as belligerent on the subject of your freedom as he once was, I am sure you and your new ally will find the means to set you free. You are unstoppable when you put your mind to it," Jacob said quietly, his head resting on top of hers.

It was tempting, sorely tempting, to want it all to go back to the way it was. She suddenly wanted her home - her 'family' and friends. Even though it was all a carefully engineered lie, sometimes the lie was worth it. Sometimes the lie was worth embracing. This man, Jacob Wilberforce, had been like her uncle - raised her as though she was his niece. Never did she doubt the love he had for her.

"Come, father, it is time to leave."

Their moment was interrupted, and her instant of peace and nostalgia was gone. She stepped back, and placed her back to the hallway wall again. Victor stood nearby, and stopped to look at her.

"Isabel," he said quietly. "I will use this stone if must. I was trained to do so if the need arose... this was all foreseen."

"So I'm told. And I would expect no less from you, as I did the same."

"That you did..."

"I am sorry for - for-" she couldn't bring herself to say it. Curse her weakness. He did not make her finish her sentence, and she was grateful for it.

"I forgive you, Isabel, as I hope you will forgive me for what I now must do in turn."

She nodded, mutely. She wanted to embrace him - to hug him, for old times sake, for their childhood together. But he was far too stoic, far too strict for such a display of affection. Jacob was a softer soul.

The two turned and walked away, and it wasn't until they were almost around the bend in the hall when Victor called back to her. "I do not approve of the norse god."

"Duly noted," she replied, stifling a laugh.

* * *

Isabel stood in front of her bathroom mirror, brushing her teeth. After the departure of the Wilberforces, she was allowed to quietly return to her room without any further conversation or interruption. Going through the motions of a normal, daily routine was calming her nerves.

After going through the motions, she walked into her room, and stripped, pulling on her silk pajamas - one of her few guilty pleasures - and stood in front of the nightstand mirror to brush out her hair. When she lowered her eyes from the mirror to place her hairbrush down, she saw a flicker of motion over her shoulder. Instinct took over, and she whirled.

Her hand was caught in mid-air by Loki, who stood behind her with a predatory grin on his face. "What are you attempting to do? Backhand me with a hairbrush? I quake in fear at the sight of such a mighty weapon."

She growled in her throat and pulled her hand free, poking him defiantly in the chest with the end of the brush. "You startled me, I cannot be held accountable for the effectiveness of any improvised weaponry, Loki. And how long have you been in my room?"

"Long enough," he purred.

She could feel the blood rush to her face, a response that only seemed to entertain him further. "You stoop to 'peeping tom' status, now, do you?"

"You humans and your strange prudish attachments to modesty. Need I remind you that I have _already seen you nude?_"

"No, you needn't remind me, as you are want to mention it regularly." She jabbed him in the chest with the brush again.

He gripped his chest, feigning injury. "My lady, the wounds you pay me cut deep."

"I would pay you much worse for sneaking into my room."

"You snuck into mine."

"I didn't knock, but I hardly snuck - there's a considerable difference."

"Only in the details."

She rolled her eyes and set down her hairbrush on the nightstand with a clink. "If you are here to finish any unsettled business from before, I am hardly in the frame of mind to indulge you."

"Ah, is that it? And not because Victor disapproves of me, now?"

"Hardly," she said with an incredulous laugh.

"And who is he that he thinks he has the right to disapprove of me?" Loki walked to the bed and flopped down onto it, taking claim of it as he folded his arms behind his head.

"Make yourself at home," she grumbled.

"I did. And you didn't answer my question."

He was toying with her - he could see it by the look on his face. She could toy back, in fact, that might be fun. She walked up towards the head of the bed, and sat down next to where he lay, just by his side. The bed was too small for two - especially with him being of more than average height. She began to undo her earrings, dropping them into a small tray on the stand. Then, her necklace. She took her time - and she enjoyed him watching her, waiting. She would make him wait.

She moved to go take off her rings, and Loki's hands flew to them, and grabbing her wrist, he pulled it across his body, pulling her suddenly down over him. His other hand quickly moved to grip the back of her neck. He was not pinning her there, but his hold certainly left little room for argument.

"I am not, nor will I ever be, a patient man," he said lowly, his face dark. His words were thick.

After her shock quickly faded, she pulled her hand gently from his grasp, and straightened herself up. His other hand was still pressed against the back of her neck, ands he took it in both hands, and placed a kiss against his palm. She surprised herself with the sudden sincerity in the affection, and laughed at herself internally. She may just be starting to develop feelings for the dark god. Of course she was - she always had a soft spot for the 'bad boys.'

"Victor," she began, and almost saw the disappointment in his eyes as she decided to end his wait on one topic, but not the other. "and I, have a complex past."

"Is there a portion of your life that is not a mystery?" he said, still laying with his shoulders up against the backboard.

"Not very much of it, no, I'm afraid. I suppose that is why you find me so interesting," she chuckled once, looking down at his hand, gently toying with his fingers. He seemed content to let her.

"Yes, and no. Do you think I will tire of you when I have unraveled all your secrets?"

"Perhaps," she looked up at him. "Although the other half of you will derive no end of pleasure using my gifts to unravel other's secrets, I'm sure."

He sat up suddenly, and she found herself with her back turned halfway to him. She flushed at his closeness - her body tensing. She felt a hand on her shoulder slowly run along it, brushing her hair to one side, and then tucking it down around her other shoulder. She shivered as a finger traced the top line of the marking on her back. "You still haven't let me examine this. Since you have decided to _tease me_ with the promise of physical gratification-"

"I have done no such thing-" she began indignantly, but never got to finish her sentence.

"Then you will allow me to see this symbol of yours. And you will me why that impertinent little wretch feels he stands in a position to judge me."

She sighed. She let him pull up the top of her silk night clothes, pulling them up over her head. She kept the fabric clutched to her chest, though - there should be some dignity in this.

He chuckled at her insistence, and ran both his hands along her shoulders. "Keep you modesty - it will make it all the better when I take it from you later," he growled into her ear. She shot him an angry look - only because his words had succeeded in their goal, to bring a deeper flush to her face.

"You are a fiend," she said back, only out of bitterness for his success, and he knew it by the expression on his face.

"I am very aware." His fingers ran across the symbols on her back, following the curve of the large circle that intersected the first triangle. "He has a deft hand, to carve this into your skin, I will give him that."

"Loki," she said, warningly.

"Oh, come now, you do not think you are the only person on the face of this world to suffer a few marks on their skin? You were not flayed by whips or held as a prisoner of war. Your losses were great, your suffering is valid, but... at least these marks are beautiful, and not twisted scars, my dear."

She shook her head. "I hate them."

"And well you should, you did not ask for them. But they suit you. They are as you are - esoteric. And they are beautiful," he said quietly as he placed a ghost of a kiss on her shoulder. She shivered at his touch, as his hands continued to trace the lines on her back.

"I see your new game now - punish me for my restraint by testing my resolve, is it?"

"Guilty as charged, but, now, on with your story. Who is this boy?"

"As I said before, I was given to a mortal family to be raised. This family knew Solomon for what he was, served him, and were happy to have me as a daughter. My adoptive father, had a brother - Jacob. He is to me an uncle. Victor is his son. So, in so much as my history, if not in blood, Victor and I are cousins. We played together as children," a smile came to her face unbidden. "He treated me as a schoolyard boy - never once thinking differently on my gender until it came to the subject of romance. 'I will chose your husband,' he insisted to me many a time. 'You don't have an older brother. So I will do it.' Apparently, he does not view you as the stuff of matrimony," she finished with another laugh.

"Thank the nine realms for that," Loki replied, his finger tracing the text in latin that circled her back. "Do you feel that they are your family?"

"Of course I do. I share memories with them - many more of them happy than sad. Jacob is a kind soul, and he cares deeply for me. He has done me many wrongs, but his love has always been constant. If we were to forsake every family member who did us wrong, we would all be orphans." She knew what she said, and she knew its likely consequence.

"Do not play at comparisons, my dear," Loki said, his voice hard. His hands left her back, and she pulled her night shirt back on, turning to face him.

"'You do not think you are the only person on the face of this world to suffer?'" she returned his words to him, and reached out, placing her palm against his cheek. "I am not suggesting you forgive them. I am not suggesting you rush into Thor's arms and beg acceptance," she chuckled at the mental picture. "I am just merely pointing out that the family in which you were raised is indeed your family, for better or worse. And they are yours to hate, to love, to war against or ignore. But they are yours. And in that you, at the very least, are not alone."

A flurry of emotions exploded across his face - anger - hatred - sadness - disbelief. She didn't know she had the ability to cut a wound so deep. She was about to apologize for her apparent harshness when she abruptly found himself in his arms, as he crushed her to him in a hug. And then, just as quickly - he was gone. Not standing, not leaving the room - but utterly vanishing.

She sat there, stunned, wondering what in the hell had just happened. Looking around the room - the god of lies was indeed completely evaporated. She waited a few minutes, processing, trying to think over what had just happened, and slowly realizing that he was not intending on returning. Letting out a long sigh, she flipped off the bedstand light and lay down to sleep.

"Unfathomable man," she said to no one in particular.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Thank you very much to The Adventures Of for such a wonderful compliment! Thank you! I hope I don't disappoint! And Defender93, again, thanks! Tony's a tricky one to 'get right' but he's fun to have in the room. Also, my avatar is now a quick photoshop job of Isabel's back, when it decides to update.

I apologize for this potentially becoming very OC heavy, with Victor, Jacob, Isabel and Alester in the shadows - hope it doesn't spoil it.

Thanks again, stay tuned!


	13. Chapter 13

He was hideously angry at himself for his weakness. He had allowed, if even for a moment, his attentions towards Isabel to leave him vulnerable. Her words had struck him, he would not deny that - but he would not be so foolish as to let it happen again. He was alone with his own goals in this universe - the girl was an amusing distraction, nothing more.

_A distraction that you will tire of soon enough, and then you may cast aside like so many other momentary amusements, _he told himself as he stood atop the building where he watched 'Victor' and 'Jacob' cross through the threshold. He was free now to do as he wished, and while he had bargained for his freedom with his promised assistance in the battle against Thanos, as far as he was concerned, he was free to pursue 'other business,' as the whelp had coined himself in the 'helicarier,' as it was apparently named.

Perhaps her words struck him too deeply. What she said had a ring of truth - and he knew it. He had known it all along. He had forsaken Thor and Odin by choice, and if they were his family, then they were his family to reject. And he would not baulk upon his actions - twice now he had failed. Failed in being King of Asgard. Failed in being King of Midgard. He would not plead forgiveness and scrape for kindness. Losing a game is better than admitting that the hand you played was a mistake. In that there was no dignity - no honor.

But never mind this.

He was here to conduct 'business.'

Whether they liked it or not.

Slipping inside the building was child's play - their security measures were meant for simple minds, not someone like he. He moved invisible through the corridors, following Victor as he walked down the twisting hallways of the old Victorian home. Loki paid the building little mind as he stalked his prey. He was accustomed to much grander stuff than this.

It felt good to work his own schemes for the first time in a year - it felt good to take control of the game. He waited until Victor was alone before he struck.

He had the man pinned down to the floor, one of his daggers pressed against his neck - the tip digging just barely into the flesh - before the fool knew what had struck him. He hissed into his ear. "You do not approve of me, do you...? I fear in that we are very much mutually aligned..."

"Loki-" the man grunted out, but he silenced him quickly as he dug the point of the dagger deeper into his throat.

"Know this, human child... You are playing well above your league to tangle with me. I could slit your throat, and take that pretty little jewel from off your neck, but I would rather let this little drama play out... and I cannot be King of a ruined wasteland, now can I?" Victor only grunted as he pushed the back of his forearm into his neck, driving the man's face further into the carpet. "So we will strike a deal, you and I," Loki continued, grinning. "And we will speak nothing of this little deal. Isabel will refuse to raise this Solomon from the grave, and would see this world burn for it. But, I have the power to convince her... I have in my hands the gift to sway our precious little necromancer. I will do so, but you will give me the stone."

"Yes-" Victor groaned out, and sputtered.

Loki stood up, then, releasing him as quickly as he had tackled the man. Victor stood up slowly, touching his fingers to his throat and pulling them back red with blood. "I would have bargained the same if you hadn't attacked me, Loki of Asgard."

"That may well be, but I wouldn't have had _nearly _so much fun..."

"You must realize that once Solomon walks this earth, he will take the Soul Gem as his property. It is not mine to give once he lives. And I will not give you the stone until Lord Solomon breathes."

"What stops me from killing you now, then?"

"No one else knows the location of Solomon's remains."

"Very well, then it is on you to endorse this deal with some manner of collateral. I will not bargain with a man for property he does not own," Loki replied, idly turning his attention idly to a glass case, containing what appeared to be ritual pieces from various eras.

"Once the process has begun - once Isabel begins the process of reviving Lord Solomon, it is a process that cannot be stopped, even by you. When she lays her hands on him, and begins the process, then I will give you the stone... Then you may argue your nine tenths of the law directly to the man himself when he wakes," Victor said bitterly.

"If you do not hand me the stone, Victor, I will hand you my blade in response."

"Your threat is clearly received."

"Good. But, so that we are clear-" Loki flicked his wrist, conjuring a blade from the ethos and sending it whipping through the air with a practiced flick of his wrist. The blade dug, up to its hilt, into Victor's leg, just above the knee. The man shouted in pain, nearly falling to the ground but catching himself upon his desk at the last moment, his other hand gripping around the handle. "I would _hate_ for us to mistake our meaning..." Loki grinned his favorite sick smile.

He heard shouts from down the hallway, and with that, he vanished. He lingered long enough to watch three other men, Jacob amongst them, burst into the room to help his son.

Loki felt his conscious focus shift back to his body on the roof, having released the double that had acted for him inside the building, and laughed.

Oh, this was to be a wonderful game after all.

* * *

The view from here was better than the tiny window in her room, Isabel mused as she stood on the deck of the helicarier. It was currently water-bound, holding in position until it was given coordinates. She loved the way the sunlight glinted on the ocean waves. It was windy as all hell on the deck of such a large ship in the middle of the ocean. Her two 'honor guards,' as she dubbed them, were none to happy about standing out in the driving wind. She didn't mind it. Although, she was wearing her coat - the grey one that Loki had conjured for her. Not out of any sentimentality, but honestly because it fit her the best. It was, after all, created specifically for _her. _

She watched the light glinting on the ocean and imagined both the sun, and the vast sea, being blinked into non-existence. And that she would have allowed it. Not only this ocean, but dozens - hundreds - thousands of oceans and suns, across the realms, destroyed by Thanos. She knew that others would try to stop him, on other realms, if he were to succeed here. He would lay waste to Earth, take the soul gem, and then move on to other worlds to wreak his havoc. He needed all five gems to become the deity that he sought to be - before he would make his sacrificial gift to Death.

She winced, suddenly realizing that Thanos would use her the same as the others. It would be a long and arduous fight across the realms to retrieve the other gems before the Mad Titan would keep his word and set her free. She had no doubt that he would do so, for love of her 'mother,' but it was her then complicit role in the destruction of the other worlds that now soured her. Thanos's next target would likely be Asgard - as the two Princes would have to fall in their defense of Earth, leaving Asgard without its greatest warrior and its greatest mind.

It was all hopeless.

Perhaps humanity had grown strong enough - more aware of its frailties to fall prey to Alester's manipulations. And even if they hadn't, Fury was correct in that now at least they had time to figure it out.

But her stomach turned at the idea of raising him. The monster who had caused the deaths of millions - engineering the rise and fall of empires simply to teach humanity a 'lesson.' She had fought so hard to see it all put to an end... she couldn't willingly bring back a man who had as much death on his soul as Thanos. Who was she to say that Alester's desires were less in number than the mad titan's? Who was to know what Alester's designs would be if left unchecked?

She was also being selfish.

She would not live the life of a pet once more.

She didn't even realize someone was standing next to her.

Isabel yelped, jumping as it dawned on her. The man next to her - a face it took her half a second of shock to recognize - reached his hands out reflexively, as he was just as startled.

"Sorry! Sorry - sorry - I-" Doctor Banner stammered uselessly.

"I.. Oh - I didn't see you there, Dr. Banner, I didn't mean to... react so," she replied, laughing at her foolishness.

"Bruce, please," he replied, smiling shyly at her.

"Bruce. I didn't realize you were standing there, I was lost in my own internal debate. God knows I could be stuck there for years if left to it."

Bruce laughed, and nodded. "Yup, I know what that's like... What were you thinking about? Chucking yourself off the edge of the ship to end it all?"

She snorted. "No. Two problems with that - My dear companions behind us would hardly let me make it that close before they took me to the ground. And second, even if I evaded them, it would do me no good except a great deal of pain. I cannot die, I am afraid. My 'mother' would not have such a thing." She couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice. "Not that it hadn't crossed my mind."

"I... know what it's like. To be denied even the option of... of not making a choice."

She turned to look at him, and saw the grief, and yet, simple acceptance on his face. She didn't need to ask. She smiled and reached out, placing her hand on his shoulder. He was such a gentle soul - to think such a kind, warm man would be forced to harbor something so violent. He smiled back at her touch, and he looked out at the ocean, clearly too shy to look at her as he started to speak again.

"As I figure... and... and maybe I'm full of it to presume, and this is presuming, but that... I might understand what you're going through. You can either let the world sort itself out - for better or for worse - most likely worse - or you can unleash a monster to save the world. And that monster is... wrong, and horrible, and unpredictable, but... it's a horrible roll of the dice."

She tried to think of some way in which their situations differ - but besides the fact that she didn't physically transform _into_ Alester - a thought that was horrifying in and of itself - she couldn't think of one. She let out a small breath. "That is precisely it, yes."

"But you're monster's different than mine. At least I can hope that if I yell and scream hard enough, the other guy'll listen and stop... destroying things. It worked last time, but... it may not work the next time. Your monster is another person - with other motives and other intentions - there's no way of knowing what he'll do."

"But he also does not have my prejudices, all the same. I despise him and think him incapable of change - he may not truly be so inclined."

"That's true. But... hey, you know you have us, right?"

"Pardon?"

"Us - the Avengers - y'know - this island of misfit toys. We may... keep our distance, but... If you wanted to be one of us, we'd all gladly have you_."_

"I am deeply touched," she smiled softly. "And if the decision were mine to make, I would gladly take you up on the offer. But whoever holds the gem holds my chain - so unless, by some odd chance, Fury gets it back or... it falls to the bottom of the sea, I fear it isn't my choice to make."

"Don't count Fury out. He always has a hand to play - and he'll cheat if he has to. He wants you as part of this team, and he wants you to _want_ to be part of this team. He'll do what he has to, to do what's right."

"Bruce, thank you... truly."

"You're welcome," he said, smiling as if he didn't understand what he had done that was worthy of thanks. "I'll... I'll leave you to it." He touched her arm, and began to walk away, before stopping. "And don't trust Loki."

"I don't."

"Good, I mean... I know, he's..." Banner trailed off.

She laughed, smiling at him, playfully. "You can't blame a girl for enjoying the attention, now, can you?"

She almost expected him to get flustered, and certainly didn't expect the matching playful smile in response. "No I suppose I can't. Just don't get hooked. He's out for his own ends, and only that."

"I'm aware. I am only his priority for so long as our priorities are the same. I'm familiar with men of his ilk, don't you fear," she shook her head gently. "But it's been a long time since I've been so... pursued, and it's an exciting game to play."

"I can see why Loki likes you," Banner began, and then quickly stammered as she shot him a look with a raised eyebrow. "I mean, he likes to talk, and you-" he groaned as he realized he was only digging himself a deeper hole. She let him dig. "And you're, intelligent, and he- oh, hell, this is why I'm a scientist," Banner grumbled. "I'm going to walk away before I end up swallowing my foot whole," he said as he turned, making good on his statement and walking away.

"Thank you again, Bruce."

"Yeah, yeah, anytime," he called back as he walked away, and muttered something else to himself that she couldn't catch in the wind.

And that was a whole different troublesome topic - Loki. She was caught in the crosswinds, it seemed. Four players at the board - Loki, Fury, Thanos and Victor. And here she was in the middle of it.

The bottom of the ocean was starting to look mighty friendly the more she thought about it.

* * *

This was the first time she had sought Fury out. Isabel walked onto the main deck of the helicarier - and took a moment to be impressed. Its polished glass surfaces and wing-pattern computer terminals were something to behold. Humanity had come a long way from the smokey parlors and dank hallways of her day to this kind of engineering. It was beautiful. The man in question stood with his arms clasped behind his back, standing overlooking those that worked for him.

"Fury," she said quietly as she approached. "I don't mean to interrupt. Do you have a moment?"

He turned, and looked surprised to see her. "Oh, Isabel. Didn't expect you. Yeah, of course."

She resisted the urge to twist her hands in front of her by shoving them into her coat pockets. She would make the decision fully, or not make it at all. "Do you really intend to go through with this? To summon Alester back to fight this war for you?"

"I think he'll probably need our help," Fury replied. "I don't plan to sit on my ass and let him do all the heavy lifting."

"No, I wasn't trying to imply that," she responded, looking out over the people working at their consoles. "But you believe this is the wise choice."

"I don't know him like you do. I can't imagine what he's done. If he's really done the bullshit you say he has, I figure it won't be long before we're forced to take him down."

"'Taking him down' is not easy."

"Nothing ever is."

She look a long pause - almost hoping lighting would strike, that something would suddenly swoop in and save her from this. That there was some other choice to make. She _willed _something - anything to happen. Nothing. She let out a long breath.

"I will bring him back to life."


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Notes: **This is a big one. And one I've been worried about. I hope you enjoy - it's a major turning point in the plot. Hope you all like!

* * *

She stared down in the box that she had asked Fury to send an agent to fetch. She had stashed it up on a shelf in her closet. She should have burned it long ago. Reaching down, she ran her fingers along the edge of the fabric. She had no inkling as to why she had kept it, but, she had. And now it seemed only right to wear it. Everyone else had 'suits,' she would look terribly informal in her nondescript business clothes.

Might as well have a little flair for drama's sake.

* * *

Isabel felt the eyes burning into her as she stepped onto the plane. She hoped the flush on her cheeks was not as pronounced as she feared it was.

"When I said 'suit up,'" Tony said. "That isn't what I had in mind... but damn."

"Quiet, Tin Man," Steve Rogers shot back from across the aisle on the plane.

"Oooh, a quippy come-back and a nickname all at once... You're growing up, Capsicle," Tony retorted.

Isabel tried to not let it bother her. Her 'cerimonial robe' was unusual. It was bound to draw comment. It was a backless black robe, made out of a thin velvet. It was designed to... 'hug' her form. The back dropped straight down to her waist, revealing all of the marking on her back. It was as Alester had designed it. It was why she was loathe to wear it... but it felt too appropriate to pass up. She had the hood pulled back, and it gathered around her shoulders. The front was a moderate cut, the hem detailed with a single strip of silver thread in a carefully sewn cursive script, echoing the same words that were carved into her back.

She sat down on the plane, picking a seat a few spots over from everyone else. She couldn't stand to face any of them, not really. Not even Loki. She just wanted tomorrow to come. Let today be over, please.

The others on the plane talked, quipped, and discussed what was happening and left her be. That was at least for the first fifteen minutes.

"So," Steve Rogers suddenly cut in, looking at her. "I... hate to ask, but, this might be important. You said before that you needed help to kill Alester the first time. Why couldn't you just... y'know, like you did to the other guy," he said, letting her put it together.

She smiled faintly at his not wanting to say the words 'rip his soul out.' "Alester... Alester can't be killed that way."

"Why?" Steve asked. Couldn't blame the man for a logical question.

"He doesn't have one soul."

"He... doesn't have a soul," Steve said quietly, disbelief in his voice.

"No, you misheard. He doesn't have _one_ soul... he has thousands. He is... much like... a beehive, I suppose. He isn't one soul, in one body... he is a thousand souls - countless souls - in one body. And he has full command over every one of them."

"He's like the Borg," Tony offered.

"I wish I knew what that was," Isabel said slowly. "But... sure...?"

"Yeah. He's like the Borg. Just go with it. Does he like... suck up other souls, and make them like all the other souls?"

"Yes," she narrowed an eye quizzically at him. "He does, how did you-"

"Also like the Borg. So he's the Borg. It's settled," Tony said, and dismissed the rest of the conversation like it was nothing.

Isabel let her mind wander off as they began a discussion of 'which franchise is better,' or what-have-you. She was glad to find herself out of the conversation as quickly as she had been included in it.

Loki didn't approach her - didn't speak to her - throughout the flight. She didn't know if she should be insulted by that or not. She kept to herself, and counted the seconds. Please let today be over soon.

* * *

The coordinates that Victor had given Fury took them to a grand cathedral in upstate New York. The building was gorgeous, covered in grand statues of angels. At the apex of the church over the door stood a beautiful, and gigantic marble statue of Michael, wielding his spear. The spear was painted gold, and glinted in the sunlight. It was all beautiful stained glass and carefully carved stone. It was exactly what she thought Victor and Jacob would have chosen.

Isabel trailed the pack, although she was not last - Fury made sure that her 'honor guard' stayed with her. She was sure they were there to keep her from escaping, not to protect her, as he had insisted. She didn't blame Fury - she wanted nothing more than to run.

As they entered the church full of more statues of Saints and rows of old, dark wooden pews, she saw several figures standing around the altar at the front. A glass casket sat on the wide stone table, and in it, she saw a collection of bones and dust. She came to a sudden stop, feeling her resolve fail her. That was him. That was Alester. This was all going to actually happen. Her throat tightened, and she pulled her hood up over her face, hiding her features in the black shroud. She lowered her head, hoping to keep her expression of fear from the others.

She forced herself to keep walking. She forced herself to follow the group. As they approached the front of the cathedral, she could hear Victor giving instructions to the others in the group around him.

"Take the glass away - leave the base and the remains... and then go. Go home. Go to your families. This isn't a fight for you," he urged.

She turned her head up briefly to watch the half-dozen men disassemble the glass case that protected Alester's remains. They were like relics to them - she could see the care in which they undid the brass bolts. After gently disassembling the glass coffin, they all bowed to Victor and then left out a side exit. She suddenly realized she was standing alone in the center aisle. The others - either on their own or because they were indicated to - had moved aside, and stood along the walls, as to not disturb what was about to happen.

_What she was about to do._

She let out a shuddering breath. She spared Loki a glance, but he seemed preoccupied with something else as he stood with his back against a column, arms folded. He would be no help to her in this. She wasn't allowed much time to her own thoughts as Victor approached her. He was limping - and walking with the aid of a cane. Odd.

"I... was told it was your decision to come. Is that true?" he asked, gently. She saw him shoot an apprehensive glare at Loki. Very odd.

"You're limping, Victor... have you hurt yourself?"

"I took a fall down some stairs this morning. Funny isn't it, that creatures such as we are vulnerable to simple things such as _stairs._"

"I suppose it is." She didn't believe him, but she wouldn't push the matter.

"Answer me, though - did you make this choice yourself?"

"I did," she sighed. "I cannot let this world burn... even as I condemn it all the same. It is unfair for me to condemn billions to death to protect them from a force that only I seem to dread."

"Cousin," Victor said quietly, gently. "The Lord of Lies claims that he has convinced you. Tell me truthfully, this is imperative... did he or did he not have any part in your decision...?"

"None," she responded, narrowing her eyes at him. Something had happened. "Victor, you didn't fall down the stairs, did you."

He didn't answer her, but only leaned forward and kissed the top of her head gently, over the hood that she wore. "You are making a valiant sacrifice, Isabel... and for that, I will always be grateful."

"I... About what had happened, I.."

"I have long forgiven you, cousin. You deserved your freedom... and perhaps this world was better to have been without Lord Solomon for a time. But we need him again."

She nodded, mutely, tears stinging her eyes. She reached out and placed her palm against his chest. She wanted to hug him, but, again, he would have no such sign of sentiment in public. He placed his own hand over hers, and curled his fingers. That is what she would have to settle for, but... it was something. "I'm sorry, Victor."

"And I am sorry that you must do this..."

She nodded again, and he released her hand, and limped away, the end of the cane thunking quietly against the stone. She slipped off the sandals that she wore - not because she was walking into any puddle of blood but... they would fall off of her anyway. Her feet would hardly be the right shape to hold on to sandals in a few moments time.

Looking up at the altar, she took a deep breath. It was time.

The marble floor was freezing on her bare feet - but it gave her something to focus on. Something to think about other than what she was about to do. Walking down the center of the large cathedral, she reached the first step up to the altar on which the glass coffin had been placed. Her hands clenched at her side at everything in her demanded she turn and run - and do anything - run to the invading horde and pledge herself to Thanos - but she couldn't. The people behind her had become valuable to her, and they needed her to do this.

She placed her bare foot on the first step, walked up towards the casket. As she reached the of the half-dozen steps, she almost felt relief. Her choice was made. She couldn't turn back. This was simpler easier - kinder. She was grateful for the hood that hid her face from the others, as she didn't have to hide her emotions from her face, as she did her body language.

She took the final step up to the casket, and looked down at the remains - all dust and bones - he had been incinerated, after all. Her mind traveled unwittingly back to the moment they had defeated him. Uriel was't a good man - he was a maniac, and had named himself after the angel due to his pyrokinesis. Uriel had also, in his madness, forgotten his real name. In this day and age he would be known as a 'mutant,' and would at least have had limited groups where he could seek refuge. But in the mid 1880's, his type was completely unknown. He was locked in asylums and tortured, and the actions left him mentally broken and volatile. He had murdered many people for pleasure - in fact had attempted to murder her many times over, finding 'proof that she was of God' that she never died. He took great pleasure in pain, both his and others.

She still had a dislike for fire because of that.

But he was powerful. And unexpected. And he had been what she needed to defeat Alester. Or so she thought. The man had seen it coming - knew her betrayal before it happened. She shut her eyes, feeling tears streak down her cheeks, finally admitting to herself a realization that she had kept away from the moment the words came out of Jacob's mouth. Alester's dedication to 'fate' was second to none - if he knew of something, he felt it was his duty to see it through. _He had let her do this. _

She was still his pawn, even when she was free.

_Perhaps freedom is life's greatest lie, _she thought to herself.

She didn't bother to wipe away her tears, again thankful for the hood that hid her face from the others. She was hesitating. _Come on, rip off the bandage, _she grumbled to herself. Reaching forward, her hand hovered over a piece of bone for an instant before she finally took hold.

* * *

Loki recoiled as he felt the power wash through the room again - much as it had done the first time. He watched as the symbol on her back, fully bared by her robe, began to glow. She was going through with it. And now it was his turn to play. He vanished, and reappeared next to Victor, who was until that moment rapt in attention at Isabel.

"Do not forget our bargain, worm. I held up my end," he snarled. "Give me the gem."

"I think not," Victor said with a smile. "She made this decision on her own out of kindness to her friends - not out of any sordid loyalty to you. She made that clear to me - you forget she is my cousin. You did nothing, therefore, you get nothing. A very good play though, my friend."

Loki snarled, and summoned a knife to his hand. "I will make you lame in both legs, human."

"You would attack me, here, in front of those you have barely convinced that you are a benign demon? If you struck me down, reason unknown and unprovoked in front of your brother Thor, do you believe you will not be carted away in chains?"

"They have more loyalty to me than to you," Loki growled deep in his throat.

"I am beginning to doubt that. Take up your argument with Lord Solomon. He is a fair man," Victor smiled thinly at him. "He will hear your dispute."

Loki raised the knife, intending to slit the boy's throat, when both of them were struck off their feet by an explosive wave of power. This did not come from Isabel - this came from something else.

Standing, he whirled quickly, and saw that the bits of dust and bone on the table were now taking shape - he grimaced at the vision of watching muscle and tendon form and stitch itself together, watching blood vessels reassemble themselves out of nothing, the bone beginning to snap into place.

"I think I saw this on Discovery once," Tony said, a little too loudly to Banner as they picked themselves up off of the floor.

Loki growled angrily again at Victor. "I will not forget this."

"And I would not expect you to," the younger man said as he used the edge of a pew to lift himself to standing, leaning heavily on the walking cane, his face scrunched in pain until he was finally standing.

Loki vanished again, reappearing by the wall alone. Thor looked at him as if to ask what was going on, but Loki ignored him. He was too busy focusing on how to turn this all to his advantage, as he watched the corpse on the table slowly turn from dust to man - and with every stitch that healed itself, Isabel looked all the worse. Her skin was already translucent and blue-grey, but now was beginning to recede from the bone. No wonder she had begged them to leave - begged to let her do this in private. It was not a pretty sight, watching her - for lack of a better phrase - decompose before their eyes.

* * *

This lake was deep - she had never gone this deep into the 'frozen lake' as she felt the death sink deeper and deeper into her. Perhaps she wouldn't come back from this one. Perhaps she would finally find the bottom of it, and be allowed to lay there and rest. The cold burned her, but she was slowly becoming inured to it. Soon it wouldn't matter. So this is what real death felt like - the struggle lessens, the pain lessens, and then there is nothing. Just cold and darkness.

But suddenly she wasn't alone.

She couldn't see anything - she she couldn't feel anything other than the crushing cold - but she suddenly _knew_ someone else was there. And she knew who it was. It was a fleeting moment, nothing more than a touch upon her soul, but she felt it there. And she knew she would not be allowed to rest.

* * *

Natasha would have thrown up if it were against her training. Man, it'd be awesome if she could just freak like a normal person. But she was the 'tough girl.' Right now, she'd pay solid money to be allowed to hurl. This was by far the most disgusting thing she had ever witnessed - and she had seen some winners over the years.

She couldn't help but keep her hand on her gun. First, she almost always had her hand on her gun. Second, if Isabel's feelings towards this guy were even halfway founded in reality, she might have to plug a few holes in him. Not that it would likely _get _her very far. But she certainly wouldn't be blamed for not trying, that's for damn sure. That, and she was pretty sure there for a second that she was going to have to break up Loki and Victor - whatever the hell _that_ was all about. She'd probably aim for Loki. Call it a grudge.

The symbol carved on Isabel's back slowly flickered and went dark. She could count her ribs from here, if she wanted to. The woman was a corpse, still somehow on its feet. How much worse could it get?

Abruptly and without warning, the _first _corpse - which had been stitching itself back together on the altar (and seriously, how melodramatic do you have to be to do this in a goddamn church on a goddamn altar?) - vanished. Just disappeared. One second there, next second might as well never have been there. Isabel suddenly crumpled to the ground with a sickening crunch. She was glad that most of her body, except her back and her arms, were hidden by that robe. She didn't want to see what was left of her face.

But where the hell was the _other _body? Natasha drew her gun and rushed forward, intending to circle around back of the altar to... look... for... okay, she didn't know what she was looking for. But she was going to look.

Two steps away from the bottom of the stairs she screeched to a halt - as somebody just sort of showed up in front of her. She hated magic, she decided. She added that to the list of aliens, gods (Thor excluded,) and pretty much everything else that should have stayed on Saturday morning cartoon shows. She pulled up short, and pointed her gun at the man who had suddenly appeared in front of her. Aim first, think second, shoot third. The order of two and three were debatable. The man was crouched down on one knee, his head lowered.

He straightened himself up slowly, flexing his back as if he hadn't moved in a great deal of time. He must have been pushing over six and a half feet at his full height. He was dressed impeccably - but entirely from the wrong century. He looked like he was out of a bad BBC period drama. He straightened the edge of his long, black wool great coat, and lifted his hands up to adjust the green thin tie that tucked into a dark houndstooth double breasted vest. His long blond hair was tied back at the bace of his neck. She suddenly realized he was staring at her - she hadn't noticed until she took stock of his sharp hazel eyes.

She was only a foot or two away from him, as he tilted his head to the side just slightly as he looked her over. His features were sharp, defined, and attractive. His eyes didn't linger on her, as he slowly turned his head to take stock of his location. If he cared about the gun pointed at him, it didn't show.

He suddenly whirled around, his coat sweeping out from him as he turned, and walked up the steps towards where Isabel lay. Natasha didn't know what to do - should she shoot him? Should she stop him? She didn't dare take her eyes off him to check for orders - Fury hadn't said anything into the comm system, so she just... waited. And watched.

The man crouched down and gently scooped Isabel up into his arms, lifting her like she was nothing. he placed her down on top of the velvet padding that had once been the bottom of the glass casket, and gently laid her down. It was then that Natasha saw Isabel's face - and wish she hadn't. The woman who had walked in through the door was now only a desiccated remain. The man took a step back, and took off his coat, shrugging the heavy fabric off of his shoulders easily. He took his coat and gently laid it over Isabel's body, and reaching up, stroked her hair back away from her face. Apparently the 'no touching' rule didn't apply to him.

Natasha watched as the man leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, and then stood up to his full height again. He looked up at the glass window over the altar - of Jesus and his disciples - and crossed himself. Turning from the altar, he walked back down the steps and stood in front of Natasha again, exactly at the spot where he had first appeared.

She hadn't moved. She was sure the look on her face was ridiculous. She didn't care.

He offered her a small smile, and tilted his head just barely to one side. "Forgive my brief interruption, where were we?" he asked. His voice was soft and deep. Alright, he was pretty damn attractive, Natasha thought with an internal laugh. Too bad. So were a lot of other freaks and weirdos.

She didn't respond, just staring at him with the gun pointed at his face.

He blinked, and tilted his head just barely to the other side in response to her silence. "May I have your name, my lady?"

"Romanov," she replied bluntly.

"My lady Romanov." He bowed at the waist, folding one arm in front of him and extending the other out to his side. "And I am Alester Solomon, as I am sure you likely have surmised. A pleasure to meet you. You will have to excuse my confusion, as I am recently returned from the dead, as I am sure you are aware." He straightened up from the bow.

"Yeah."

"Do you intend to shoot me, Ms. Romanov?"

"Don't know yet," she replied, just as bluntly.

He laughed at that - a deep laugh in the base of his throat. It was a genuine laugh - wasn't cruel, or unkind. It almost felt infectious. She didn't trust it. "May I then beg your permission to approach my companions and discuss my recent re-arrival while you decide? You may feel free to notify me in advance of your decision, or not, as you see fit. I am sure I will be notified shortly following," he said with a still genuine smile. It took Natasha a third of a second to catch what he had said, and she snorted at his joke.

"I guess."

"Thank you for your leave, my lady. Victor! Jacob!" he suddenly burst and stepped around her, and her gun, to walk past her down the aisle. What the hell just happened? Natasha lowered her gun, swiveling to watch him as he went to approach a very happy looking Victor and Jacob Wilberforce.

Fury beat him there.

"Now you just wait one minute," Fury cut in, stepping in between Victor and Alester. "I'm Director Fury of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. I'm here representing-"

"May I speak to my friends?" Alester interrupted.

"No," Fury cut back in. "I'm here representing-"

"Pardon my crudeness, but you are a man of color in charge of an organization? I am pleased to hear that society has advanced in my absence."

"Thanks," Fury snapped, getting frustrated. "I'm here representing the-"

"May I inquire as to what year this is?"

"2013. I'm here-"

"Where precisely are we currently located?"

"Upstate New York." Fury nearly yelled. Now Natasha needed to use all her ability to keep from _laughing her ass off._ This 'Alester' had a look on his face like he was the cat who ate the canary. He was _messing _with Fury. Been alive for less than ten minutes and the man was already poking Fury's buttons. And he was good at it, too.

"Thank you. It has been a pleasure speaking to you," Alester said as he quickly side-stepped Fury, walking towards where Victor and Jacob waited.

"You just wait one minute there, I-"

"You-" Alester interrupted, turning around sharply. He didn't look angry - but there was a harder edge to his voice than before. "Are representing the human race, as I imagine. Some horrid force, from beyond this world, has expressed its imminent interest in destroying this realm and, upon completion of such a task, likely many others. If the presence of two ancient Nordic gods, and the simple intrinsic fact that Isabel has seemingly been _convinced of her own volition_ to raise me, is any indication of the grave nature of this present danger, then I do not have much time to dawdle. In short, Mr. Fury, I am perfectly aware of your needs, intentions and representations, and I wish to speak momentarily with my companions whom I have not seen in many years, _if you would be so kind."_

Fury stood in stunned silence.

Actually stood there in stunned silence.

Her mouth must have fallen open - and she wasn't alone. Barton, Rogers, and Banner were mirror images.

"Whoa, did he - did he just put Fury to task?" Tony 'whispered,' far too loudly. Of course the so-called genius had to open his mouth.

"Thank you," Alester said to Fury, and whirled back around to finally approach his friends.

Tony began to slow-clap, interrupted by Rogers, who suddenly slapped him in the chest. Tony groaned, "Hey, watch the shrapnel!"

"My friends," Alester said as he approached the two Wilberforces. Victor dropped to a knee, to which Alester chuckled. "Stand up, you fool," he said, the affection clear in his voice. "My boy, come here." Victor stood up, slowly, a look of awe and admiration on his face as the taller blond pulled him into a tight hug. Jacob came next. They began to speak too quietly for Natasha to hear. It looked like three guys at a bar who hadn't seen each other in years - nothing more, nothing less. She was almost fooled. Almost.

She finally walked back to Barton, who had a hand on his bow, and looked as nervous as she was. "What do you make of it?" she asked.

"Dunno... not the tyrant I was expecting," he muttered, tilting his head towards her so that he could speak without being heard by the others.

"I don't trust him," she replied.

"Neither do I."

"Namely because I kind of want to like him."

"Ditto."

Fury touched his finger to his ear, and turned his head to listen to the comm in his ear. "Look, I hate to break up your little reunion," Fury snapped angrily. He was sore over being schooled - he would be on a tear for weeks. "But we've got company."

They ceased their conversation, and Alester turned halfway to look to Fury. "Now I will inquire - what are we facing?"

"Intergalactic alien swarm of several thousands - headed by a mad titan from another planet. He wants to kill us all to impress his 'lady love,' Death."

"Is that all?" Alester smiled with a cocky twinge. Fury huffed in irritation, to which Alester raised his hand. "Peace, friend. I am merely playing. Forgive me, I have been... silent for a great deal of time, and now find the urge to speak. I will do what I can to stop this 'intergalactic alien swarm.' Victor," Alester turned his attention to the younger man. "May I have the gem? I may need its assistance."

"Of course, my Lord," Victor took the necklace off quickly, almost catching himself on the chain in his hurry to pull it off.

Alester took it, and turned it over in his hand thoughtfully, running his thumb along the dark stone cage. He slowly turned his gaze back to the altar, and the corpse that lay on top of it. Natasha was shocked to see remorse there - although he could have just been putting on a phenomenal show.

He sighed again, muttered something quietly under his breath, and placed the stone around his neck. Natasha swatted away an insect from her shoulder, absentmindedly. Stupid old buildings.

The moment he placed the stone around his neck, Natasha whirled as she heard a ragged gasp come from the altar. Isabel was alive. Well, sort of. Maybe. She looked better than she had a moment before - her skin was still pale and had that awful blue-grey twinge, but it was full, she was no longer literally 'skin and bones.' Her back arched as she gasped again, the breath on the exhale mist, as if her breath was far too cold for the warmer air around her.

Alester rushed forward, and his foot reached the bottom stair before he stopped suddenly. He clenched both of his fists, and looked like he had an internal argument. The look on his face was one of pain - Romanov was surprised as Alester finally took a step back. He looked around the room, before finally he settled on Rogers.

"Soldier - Sir, if I may impose on you, please..." he asked, and he actually sounded almost desperate. Steve blinked.

"Me?"

"Yes, please... come here, if you would humor me," Alester said again, waving him closer.

Steve stepped forward, looking very confused. He gripped the shield in his hand, and looked almost tempted to slap Alester with it, but he refrained.

"I... must ask you for a horrible favor. You are a soldier... and therefore your place is upon the battlefield. But I must beg of you to do me a great service. She... she will wake soon, and... even if I had the luxury of time to stay at her side... mine is not the face she would wish do see." Alester paused. "You are kindhearted - I can see that within you. You are a true man of honor... and... you would give her strength should you be there when she wakes. I ask you to... tend to her. I will likely need her assistance in this battle to come, and she will not be strong enough on her own."

"My place is on the field, fighting..."

"And you will have your fill, Sir, that I promise you. But any man may charge into a battle with a sword drawn - it takes a different manner of soul to command others to follow. She must _wish_ to aid in the fight that is to come. She will not be strong enough without the passion to continue. Please..."

"Alright," Steve said quietly, unsure of what else to say. The hand that held on to his shield gripped and re-gripped the leather strap.

"You do not trust me," Alester said in an exhale. "And you are wise. There will be much to answer for when the battle is done," he said as he walked away from Steve, heading towards the front of the church. He began to unbutton the cuffs on his shirt, and began meticulously rolling the sleeve up.

He was acting like he was going to go fix a car - not start a war, Natasha thought to herself. How could someone be so casual about this? Unless he was just _that_ sure of himself. Natasha, and everyone else in the room sans Alester, jumped visibly as there was an explosion from outside. The windows went dark as something large flew past the building. They were here. The Chitauri were here.

"They're likely after the stone," Alester said calmly as he began rolling up his other sleeve. "Mr. Fury, if you would so kindly command your men to fire only upon the foes that they see now - and not to waste bullets on what is to come."

"What _is_ to come?"

Alester smiled a wicked grin. "You will see."

* * *

"May I have the gem? I may need its assistance."

"Of course, my Lord," The idiotic little blond replied as he nearly ripped his own ear off, he was so eager to give the stone to his 'lord.'

Loki was almost impressed - _almost _- at the way that Alester played Fury. The god of lies leaned up against a column and folded his arms across his chest. It was no longer his turn. He had to wait for this strange risen man to play his hand.

He didn't realize how quickly that would be.

As Alester placed the stone around his neck, Loki felt something shift. The world... stopped. The candles in their holders stopped flickering - the flames were still lit, but they were frozen in time. It seemed that everyone was, except for him.

And Alester.

"Now, all of their roles in this I understand," the other man began, walking down the aisle towards where most of the Avengers were gathered. "The genius, troubled by chaos... the genius, troubled by rage... an ancient god, following his oath to protect - the soldier, grand of battle and of heart, striving towards a higher cause, the spies, seeking redemption and absolution for their crimes, " Alester said as he moved along the line of frozen, unseeing figures. Alester ran his hand slowly along Natasha's shoulder, pausing to wrap a lock of hair around his finger before moving on.

Loki squared his stance towards Alester, ready for a fight.

"I understand them all," the man continued. "Troubled souls with kind hearts, seeking to save the world. But I do not understand _you,_ Loki, God of Lies. Why, precisely, are you here? What do you care if this world burns?"

"I have no reason to speak with you, _Asmodeus_." Loki would not be so easily outplayed. Yes, this little stunt caught him off guard, but Alester was coming late to the game with an unknown hand. Loki could not be faulted for that.

"Mm, she mentioned my old name. Of course she would," he touched his chin thoughtfully. "Ah - is that it, then? It that what you have come here to claim? Her? What do you care for her?"

"I am here to claim her, and the stone."

"And if you were to take her, and the stone, what then?"

"I would rule this world as its King," Loki summoned his battle armor to him, then, which only drew a raised eyebrow out of Solomon.

"If you are seeking a fight, I believe we both have a battle ahead of us. I would rather not waste our mutual energy when we can settle this later. You would wish to rule these humans - a race which your kind find notoriously beneath your notice - only because, I presume, that you were denied a station of honor upon your own realm."

"Be silent," Loki snapped.

"You are caught off guard for this battle of wits, Loki, 'devoid of fathers..'"

Loki narrowed his eyes. He had heard that once before. _'And here you stand, devoid of fathers,' _Isabel had said that to him. Recognition must have shown on his face.

"Ah, you are quick to the draw. Surely you know why it was so difficult to kill me," Alester said, walking towards Loki slowly. The god stood his ground.

"She had mentioned it, yes."

"Do you think that I would not have... 'haunted' my dear Isabel while I was away? I followed her... I know everything that she has done... everything that _you-_" and Alester's hand was suddenly around Loki's neck, pinning him to the column he had just stepped away from. Alester had covered twenty feet in an instant - Loki had been expecting an attack, and a fast one, but not _that _fast. "Have done!" Alester snarled.

His grip around Loki's neck would have killed a mortal. Loki only grinned at him. "And I see your distress, Solomon - you want nothing more than her loyalty. She _despises _you. She considered letting this world be destroyed to be spared having to look upon your face," Loki snarled. "And she _willingly _comes to my embrace. What pain that must be - to see your 'daughter' fall in step with someone so loathsome such as I."

"Daughter?" Alester laughed, and released him, taking a few steps backwards.

Loki fought the urge to touch his neck - the muscle ached where the other man had clenched. He'd bruise, but, no matter.

Alester grinned and spread his arms out at his side as he spoke. "You are mistaken, Lord of Lies... she is not my daughter. She is _my wife._"


	15. Chapter 15

Author's Notes: Glad you enjoyed - or at least were surprised - by that cliff hanger. As to the question of whether or not this is still a Loki/OC - I suppose you'll have to wait and see. I'm just sort of letting it take me where it wants to go. :) What's the fun of romance without shaking it up a bit?

I'll have another few chapters up tomorrow, I think.

* * *

Isabel gasped air into her lungs, and felt the searing pain course through her. This was the worst it had ever been. Every nerve in her body was screaming in pain and protest. Nothing in her, not a nerve, not a cell, nothing, wanted to be back.

She felt someone gently take her hand and squeeze it. "You're okay," she heard. It took every ounce of will she had to open her eyes and turn her head. She was shocked to see... Captain Rogers. Definitely not who she was expecting. That alone made her curious enough to stay conscious.

"Steve...?" she asked quietly. Her ears were ringing - she sounded like she was in a fish tank. Behind the ringing, she heard the sound of explosions and gunfire. The battle was already raging outside.

"Yeah..."

"Why aren't you out there?"

"He uh... Alester, asked me... to stay with you... said you'd be pretty messed up, and that... he'd be the last one you'd want to see." Steve said quietly. He had pulled his mask back.

"He wasn't wrong," she groaned as she struggled to sit up- she felt his hand on her back, helping her. The contents of her stomach churned and she fought the urge to be sick. "On either count..."

She swung her legs over the edge of the alter, and placed her hand to her head. "I need to lay down," she groaned out.

"I... we need to go out there."

"You do," she raised her head to look at him. "I have no place on a battlefield, Steve..."

"He said he'd need your help... didn't mention why."

Isabel sighed. Of course he did. She shut her eyes - this was his moment of glory, his valiant return and his battle to prove to the world that he was 'the good guy.' And he wanted her to see it. And he left the ultimate 'good guy' here to convince her. His scheme was easy to see... leave the man whose heart veritably _bled_ righteousness with her, should she shy away from the battle or be too weak to continue... for who better than the Captain of all soldiers to convince her to keep fighting?

"I'll spare you the speeches you're probably drafting in your head," she placed her hand on his arm, and slid off of the alter. He supported her as her knees buckled momentarily.

"They weren't really that good, anyway..." Steve mumbled. "I'm crap when I have time to think about it."

She laughed, and looked up at him with a smile, one that he returned.

"If you can help me get outside... I'll be alright."

"I don't buy that, but sure," he responded.

The stairs were tricky - she wanted nothing more than to curl up on a warm place somewhere and sleep. She was shaking as if she had been caught in a cold rainstorm, and she felt about the same. There is no way she would have recovered so quickly without help - Alester had a hand in this. She should have been out for days.

As she walked down the center aisle of the church, she felt the ground rumble with an explosion. Something whipped past the windows, casting shadows at it passed.

Steve looked like he was about to pull his hair out, he was so anxious. She smiled at him, and gently pulled her hand out of his grasp. "Go on, Steve. You need to be out there. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure..?"

"Yes. I promise you I won't run off, or hide, or collapse. Go on."

He looked relieved. He belonged on the battlefield, not babysitting her. He pulled his mask on, and with another nervous smile, burst the doors open and charged outside. It was something to see.

She made her way towards the still-open doors - but was stopped as something grabbed her wrist. She was yanked around suddenly to face a fully battle-garbed, and very angry looking, Loki.

"You should be out there fighting," she asked, slightly taken aback at the rage on his face.

"I am," he snarled. It was then that he shimmered around the edges - he was a double. It must be taking a great deal of focus to be fighting a battle _and_ projecting. No wonder this double was flickering around the edges. "You neglected to inform me that Alester is _your husband._"

She yanked her hand out of his grasp. "He is not my husband!" she snapped back at him. "He believes that we are wed, but there was no ceremony, no legal binding. It is his opinion that we are wed 'in the eyes of God,' and that is all that matters. I have never agreed to such a thing," she said, matching his tone. "Don't you dare speak to me over this like you have _anything_ to be upset about!"

Loki growled and grabbed her by her shoulders, and roughly yanked her towards him, glaring down at her. "I do not appreciate being toyed with. We will speak once all this is done, my dear." And before she could shout at him, he was gone - vanished as fast as he had appeared.

Wishing she had some outlet for her sudden frustration, she let it out in a slow sigh and turned to walk outside... and very quickly wished she could step back inside and forget that this was happening.

The sky was a swarm of Chitauri. The cathedral that Victor had chosen was in an area of upstate New York that wasn't heavily occupied. Because of that, at least the wanton destruction was less than it was in the city the year prior, but the downside was that the invading army had fewer targets and points of interest.

There was no portal in the sky - so the army had traveled here. Traveled here to fight them - and take the soul gem. Banner had mentioned that Thanos had intended to open 'several portals,' and her stomach twisted at the knowledge that this kind of destruction was being played out on a global scale.

With one small difference.

Thanos had come in person.

Or, at least, she could only assume that's who it was - a hulking figure standing atop a hovering disk-like platform, a few hundred yards away, seemingly commanding the fight.

She heard the howl of the Hulk - somewhere off in the distance - but she couldn't track where he was. She saw flashes of the Avengers and people she knew now and then, but couldn't catch anyone for longer than a few seconds. She tried not to recoil as a Chitauri was struck down in the air, and exploded on contact with the ground twenty feet from her. It was what struck down the Chitauri that caught her eye.

A creature, both made from light and yet looking like a shadow - that it had been projected against the ground - dashed past her, conforming to the plane of whatever it touched. It was two-dimensional, but shone in a strange golden light. The most defining feature of the creature were its large wings - shaped like those of a swift's, as it dashed across the ground. She knew what this was - she had seen it before.

The monster paused to look at her with its strange, torn-fabric looking glowing white eyes, screeched, and dashed away. To some, they were nightmares. To others, blessings. Some mistook them as angels, others mistook them as demons. But she knew better. They were souls. _His_ souls.

The creature moved across the ground, then left the two-dimensional plane of the grass as it shot diagonally through the air, and tore through the chest of another flying Chitauri. The alien screamed, and grabbed its chest as the soul went straight through it, passing through it like the alien invader wasn't even there. The Chitauri, though, was not so unharmed. The Chitauri's chest suddenly began to bleed as though every point on his skin was perforated by a million tiny needles. He had been liquified from the inside. The Chitauri collapsed, his air-ship veering and crashing into the side of the building.

The flying, golden-soul creature impacted with the side of a building and resumed its strange two-dimensional shape. And this creature wasn't alone. Now that she was looking for them, she could see dozens of them... he had his own personal army of these things - and the Chitauri couldn't even touch them.

Isabel was almost mad at being proved wrong - they needed Alester's gifts for this fight. But, at least she hadn't raised him for nothing. And there was the man in question - standing in the center of the destruction like nothing was happening. Around him, glowing on the ground, was a circle about thirty feet in diameter. She had seen this before, as well. It was barely visible - so dim that she could only really see it when she looked at it out of the corner of her eye - but the circle was similar in style to those carved onto her back. It was twisting around Alester slowly - its purpose immediately clear as a Chitauri rushed towards Alester, but as he came in contact with the shield, evaporated.

_One more soul for his collection_... if the Chitauri had souls. They might not - it would explain a great deal of their 'hive mind.'

She began walking down the stairs, focusing on her steps and not falling over. She would retain her dignity if it killed her. Pulling her hood up over her face, she stepped around a large pile of burning debris.

She realized, suddenly, after stepping on a rather large rock, that she was barefoot. That would smart later - she made more careful mind of where she was stepping. As she wound her way through the rocks and charred cars, she finally reached the edge of the circle in which Alester stood. It wouldn't hurt her. She walked through it without a second thought.

Sensing her, she saw him turn his head, sparing the focus to watch her approach.

"You are awake," he said quietly.

"With your help."

"Perhaps a little," he smiled faintly, and turned his head as one of the large Leviathans appeared over a building. She watched as dozens of his bizarre shimmering golden souls swarmed around the Leviathan - and amongst the flurry of the thin-winged monsters, she could make out Iron Man and Thor. They watched as the Leviathan screamed, thrashed in the air, and crashed to the ground some half-mile from where they stood.

"Are you impressed by the fight, my love?" Alester asked.

"I would rather it be over," she answered, her voice even. She didn't want to be here talking to him - but she had no choice. This was the safest place to be, and she had no right to be out on the battlefield. A car would probably land on her head - and while she'd live, she had enough pain for one day.

"As you command," Alester smiled. "Although I fear I may need your assistance to fulfill your wish. It appears that... Thanos cannot be killed. I have maimed him with almost every mean at my disposal, and he is impervious. The best that I can manage is to pin him down for some short period of time..."

Isabel couldn't help but laugh. "And here I thought I could rest after what I was begged to do," she said with no small level of resentment in her voice.

"If I could have left you to sleep, I would have, my love."

"Stop, Alester, please..."

He sighed and cast a forlorn look in her direction. Isabel hated that look - that 'why will you not simply pity me' expression. She couldn't help but look away. They stood, not speaking, as the battle raged on. He was the first one to break the silence.

"You have taken a fondness for the God of Lies-"

"You wish to discuss this _now?!_" She yelled, still not looking at him.

"I will forgive your infidelity since I was deceased, and it could only be expected, but now that I have returned, I ask that you-"

"That I what, honor our 'marriage?!'" She rounded on him finally. "We are not, nor have we ever been _wed_, Alester. You may believe that I belong to you - but I do not. I killed you to prove my point. Are we to begin precisely where we left off?!" she railed. She wanted to throw a rock at his head - what little good it would do.

"Perhaps you are right, perhaps now is not the time to discuss this matter," he said, although he was clearly unconvinced.

"Please just finish this battle - you're toying with them."

"I wished not to strain myself by exerting my power too quickly - I have only recently returned from the dead," he said, with the tone of a man discussing groceries. This was nothing to him. "But, you are right. Enough of this."

Alester turned, and looked up towards the apex of the church. Isabel could do nothing but watch as a handful of the gold monsters flew from Alester - originating from his shadow - and moved across the floor up and up the side of the building. They embedded themselves into the marble statue of Michael that stood atop the church. With a resonating groan, the stone moved, cracking at the joints, as the souls took over the previously inanimate object.

The statue lept into the air, spreading its marble wings, and landed on the ground with a resounding _thud._ As the angel landed, the church bells began a slow toll. Alester turned his attention then to Thanos - it was not a subtle challenge, and the Mad Titan was not one to stand down from a threat.

"You are the master of melodrama, Alester," Isabel said, exasperated.

"I do what I can," he responded with a wide grin.

Suddenly the battlefield went silent. The Chitauri - the Leviathans - they had all withdrawn. They were perched atop buildings, waiting... watching. Thanos would have this sleepy town become an arena for their battle. She could find most of the Avengers, then - all wary as they watched their waiting foes, but, not arguing for the chance to catch their breath. She saw the glint of the sun against a pair of golden horns as she met eyes with Loki, where he stood atop an over-turned semi-trailer truck.

Isabel was distracted for that moment, as they met eyes - Loki with an unreadable expression on his face. In that one moment, Thanos had jumped from his floating disk that he had used to command the battle, and was walking down what was once a city main street towards where they stood.

"Are you worried?" Alester asked her, a faint curl to the edge of his lips.

"No."

"I am flattered by your confidence in my abilities."

"Of all my arguments with you, Alester, never has there been amongst that list the barest hint of question in your abilities."

Alester laughed. "I see you have kept your wit sharp as ever," he spared her a look, the smile reflected in his eyes.

"And it grows sharper still," she replied, trying to keep from becoming involved in a conversation with him - it only encouraged him.

He saw her withdraw, and he turned his own attention back to Thanos's approach. "You know what I will need you to do."

"Yes. Why don't you use the stone to do it yourself?" It wasn't a bitter question, just curious.

"Because I swore to you that I would never use this stone. I vowed that I would never touch it with intention - just to keep it safe. I took it from Victor knowing he would likely fall if Thanos sensed it on his person.. he will have a much harder time taking it from me," He grinned then. Alester was enjoying the battle - enjoying the opportunity for a good fight.

And a good fight he would have. Thanos began to run, then jumped into the air - intending to burst through Alester's field. Sensing the trouble, Alester pushed her to the side. Isabel ducked behind a car as Thanos crashed through the field that had protected the other man up until this point. The field shattered like so much glass, the pieces disappearing as they hit the ground. Thanos's fist came down on Alester - to find no one there. Alester had disolved into small flurries of golden winged creatures - tinier than their counterparts, but greater in number. Alester reappeared behind Thanos, and struck him. While Thanos was much larger than Alester - towering over the seemingly human man, the titan rocked back and landed with a sickening crunch through the front of a store front.

Thanos picked himself up slowly, wiping the edge of his mouth with a grin on his face - the Titan had forgotten about the marble statue, who suddenly swiped him across the face with its golden spear. The impact sent the Titan crashing through another storefront.

Isabel couldn't focus on the fight, though. She stood from the car long enough to see the marble angel mix into the fight before she was suddenly pinned to the car. "I will _not_ be defeated," Loki growled lowly into her ear. She froze, not sure what else to do. He had her arms pinned to the metal top. She wasn't sure if it was the real Loki, or a duplicate. "I want you to be perfectly clear on my intentions... I will have the soul gem, and I will have you, and no one will stop me." She wasn't sure if he was physically threatening her, or.. making a lewd suggestion. The look on his face was still unreadable and his green eyes were dark.

"Loki, I-"

"His claim on you changes _nothing._ You can either assist in my goals, or fight me..."

"Let me go, now is not the time-"

"What would stop me from slitting his throat in this moment and taking the stone?"

_"_You would not succeed."

_"You think so little of me?!" _Loki snarled.

"I think you are not ready to face Alester, you dolt," she snapped back at him, her anger at his assertions quickly overtaking her astonishment over his sudden 'attack.'

"Is that all? It has nothing to do with your _husband's _sudden return, is it? It was not long ago you would have enjoyed such attentions from me." Loki lowered his head towards her neck. She could feel his hot breath rush across her skin. She shut her eyes tight, and growled deep in her throat.

"Now... is not.. the time. Loki-" But she suddenly felt the air in front of her clear - the heat of his body was gone. She opened her eyes, and he was missing. She half expected seeing Alester tearing the god off of her - but Alester was still too distracted in his fight with Thanos. They had moved a hundred feet down the street in their brawl - and that's all it was now. Alester using his tricks, and Thanos being impervious to attack.

"Enough of this childishness!" She heard Alester shout. Turning her head at a rumbling noise, she watched as the other stone statues atop the church wrenched themselves free from their casings, tearing and ripping themselves from their stone, and rushing past her towards the fight.

Thanos roared as he punched wildly at the statues - shattering each into dust. He had pounded ten or so statues of Saints and angels into nothing. "You are a fool, you pitiful, pathetic pretender to the throne of immortality!" Thanos roared. "I will take great pleasure in tearing you limb from limb!"

But he was mistaken.

He had forgotten one statue.

The archangel.

Diving down from the air, the huge marble statue drove its spear through Thanos's chest, pinning him to the ground. Isabel tried not to snort - it was a perfect recreation of the old print of Michael and Lucifer. She shook her head, walking up to where Alester stood, leaning against a building, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth. Alester was breathing heavily, and looked worse for wear. He was pale - he had burned many souls in the fight. "More melodrama," she commented to him as she passed.

"I couldn't resist," he replied with a playful, if beleaguered, grin. "You know what you must do..."

"Of course," she replied. "What state I will be in afterwards I cannot say," she finished almost idly as she walked by.

She approached Thanos - pinned upon a piece of rubble stone, the spear driven straight through his chest into the rock. The titan was alive - and angry. He was shouting at Alester, although the man was out of his range of sight. "You may leave me here like this for as long as you wish, you coward - I will remain even as this statue turns to dust! Build a tomb about me, and I will _still_ be free to wreak my vengeance upon you! For I am older than the mountains, and when they have all long since crumbled, I will remain and I will seek you out-" she began tuning him out as he raged. The Chitauri atop the buildings seemed content to stand and watch - they were instructed not to interfere, after all. And Thanos was their ruler by might, not by any real loyalty. The Chitauri knew no such thing as loyalty.

As Isabel approached, she looked up at the cold, emotionless face of the angel... and it was fitting. The otherworldly, yet simple beauty of the carving, pinning down the grotesque purple titan. It would make a beautiful wood carving. She pulled the hood from her face, and walked up to the howling creature. He saw her, and then stilled.

"You would not," he snarled. "I am beloved of your mother."

"I must," she replied, sadly. "I have no choice. You seek to end too much life."

"You are the daughter of death, and you blanch at such a thing?! You should share the same goal as I! To see death reign supreme!"

"Without darkness there can be no light, and without life, death is meaningless. What you wish to do is... unconscionable. I am sorry..."

"I could have freed you! From him, from that gem! Did you doubt my sincerity?!"

"Not at all," she replied, the sadness still in her voice. She didn't want to do this... and she still wondered what would have happened if she had made the other choice. "I believe you... And yes, I could have been free. But at the cost of hundreds of billions of lives, and entire worlds... what would I have to enjoy with that freedom...?" She laid her hand on his arm, and he howled again, and struggled anew. But the statue held him fast. "I'm sorry, Thanos."

She took hold of his soul, and yanked - it wouldn't budge. It took all of her mental strength, every ounce of her will, to pull his soul free from his body. As she finally managed to yank it free, she took hold of the thread that connected his soul to his body... and severed the line.

The blast of energy that resulted from his soul being freed rolled cars and debris, and knocked several agents over in the wave of power. She held onto his soul, and hesitated setting it loose. She could put it back into his body - she could let him continue the fight against Alester, and potentially, eventually, defeat him.

_'Why do you hesitate?'_ Came a question from an unexpected voice. She turned her head, and saw a woman in a black robe, the hood obscuring her features, standing nearby. The robe was similar to hers, but covered almost every inch of the woman's body.

"Hello, mother," she replied quietly. Isabel had never met her before - but she needed no introduction.

_'Why do you hesitate?'_ the question came again.

"I pity him."

_'Why?'_

"He does this out of a love that cannot be fulfilled. It is worth pity."

_'It seems we are both recipient of a love that we do not return. And yet you are selective with your pity.' _

"Is that 'motherly advice?'" she responded with a small laugh.

_'An observation.'_

They stood in silence for a moment, her holding onto the struggling soul of Thanos. She turned her attention to the titan, and then back to Death. "Will you take him?" she asked, hopefully.

_'Yes.'_ Was the simple response.

Isabel smiled, a light, almost heartbroken smile. She would take Thanos home to the land of the dead. Thanos would finally have his wish. They would be together. "He gave you a suitable gift, then. Perhaps not half the waking realms, but the gift of his own death."

_'It is a suitable sacrifice.'_

Isabel shut her eyes, the smile still on her face, as she released his soul. Opening her eyes, she watched as Thanos's body seized, struggled, and then died. His soul was what was impervious, not the flesh - it was sheer will that had made the titan indestructible. Without the soul, the body quickly died to the spear wound. And so died the titan race.

Isabel heard the cheers of the avengers nearby, the agents, limping, bloody and wounded, come together to celebrate their victory. No one approached her, though, as she stood like a black inkblot against the gray cement, looking at the corpse of the titan race, still speared to the stone by an impossible marble statue.

The world suddenly tilted left, right, and began to tilt up towards her head at an alarming rate.

She didn't hit the pavement.

Alester had caught her. Isabel didn't have time to protest before she was suddenly cradled in his arms. She looked him at him, anger flashing across her eyes.

"You are barely awake, my dear, this is not the time to argue," he said quietly down to her. "You have saved the world this day, no less so than I have."

"I feel sick," was her brilliant and eloquent response.

He laughed, and it was that laugh that was the last noise she heard as she slipped into unconsciousness. She was glad for it to come.


	16. Chapter 16

Isabel woke slowly - and sorely wish she hadn't. Why couldn't she just be allowed to sleep? Blearily opening her eyes, she ran a hand along her face. It began to dawn on her that she had no _clue_ where she was. Sitting up so quickly that her head spun, she looked around at her surroundings. It was... expensive. This wasn't the helicarier.

"Good morning, Ms. Isabel," came an even-tempered british voice from nowhere.

"Stark Tower, then?" she asked.

"Yes, Miss. I have already notified Mr. Stark that you are awake."

"Why here?"

"I cannot say, Miss. Mr. Stark had requested of Mr. Solomon that he be allowed to run tests - to which it would be sensible to take him here."

Isabel swung her legs over the side of the bed, and rubbed her face with both hands again. Her stomach rumbled. "I'm starving," she commented idly.

"I suppose you would be. You have been asleep for several days."

Isabel blinked. "How many?"

"Three."

Isabel swore.

"An appropriate response," Jarvis replied. She almost could have thought that she sensed some dry amusement in the comment.

Standing up, she found herself wearing a pair of pajamas - and sighed. Someone had changed her. She was really sick of that happening. She made her way to the bathroom, intending on showering in hopes that the hot water would clear her foggy head.

Isabel stepped into the hot shower and audibly groaned. There was nothing in this world quite as wonderful as a hot shower. She let the water rush over her, and tried to let the tension that had built up in her shoulders relax. She was in Stark Tower. Not locked in a room in some sprawling estate. She was still with the Avengers, who now seemed like some safe haven amongst her choices. She wasn't a prisoner - at least, she hoped not. Truth be told, she hadn't tried the door lock. Her head began to wrap around the events of the previous - well she supposed it was a week, now.

Thanos was defeated. The realms were safe from that threat. Loki was furiously angry at her, and Alester had returned. She had no clue what either of their intentions were now. Loki wanted the gem, and Alester would refuse to give it up. The two of them would undoubtedly come to blows.

Alester and Loki. Oh lord. Oh lord, what had she done. The attentions of the God of Lies had been wonderful - exciting, and it was charming to feel as though she was desirable to him. She enjoyed their war of wits, and she enjoyed his company. He was quicksilver to be sure - she could clearly provoke his wrath just as easy as she could provoke his lust. He wanted to use her as a means to an end. With him, she was playing with fire.

But with Alester... who was likely now playing the accommodating, gentle soul, was likely winning them all over. She hoped they didn't trust him - but that is what he did best. He commanded legions of men who would - and did - follow him into the grave only out of _love for him. _And he loved her. She knew he did - she never doubted it. Alester loved her more than anything in this world, and would - and had - laid down his life for this love. But she did not return it. He was her creator, her captor, and her tormenter. She couldn't love someone who had been responsible for so many wars, so many genocides - even if they were done out of 'love for the human race.' Acts of violence done from love are still only just acts of violence.

She had finished showering, but... the water was too comfortable. And her mind was still pouring over what had happened, trying to come to terms with the new state of the game.

She bit back a scream as something touched her shoulder, and she moved to turn around but was suddenly caught in someone's arms. The door hadn't opened - the curtain hadn't moved - whoever this was appeared there. Her eyes flew open, but she was still in the stream of water and it was impossible to keep them open. Turning her head, she struggled in the grip of whoever had her.

"Sssh," she heard quietly into her ear, followed by a kiss against her earlobe. Lips grazed down her neck, down to her shoulder. A strong hand kept her head turned away, revealing more of her neck to him. The arm around her waist had pinned one arm to her side - and the other arm was gripping his wrist, trying to pull it from her, fruitlessly.

"Loki, stop-"

And he was gone. She whirled, and found no one there. Her mind reeled. She had assumed it was Loki... but if it was... why would he have stopped so easily? It wasn't like him to give up - and also to be so brazen as to approach her in the shower... Why would he have remained silent? She swore again, as the feeling of dread settled on her shoulders. It hadn't been Loki.

Oh lord, what had she just done.

* * *

Loki stood in the main room of Stark's home, a drink in his hands as he looked out over the city. A city that should be his. A city that almost was. He did not appreciate being here, but for now he had no other options. Better this, than the floating ship where everyone possessed a gun and a desire to use him as target practice.

He was free to go his own way - Fury had released him. He was not welcome freely in Asgard, but that was no longer his home. But he stayed on Midgard - and in such undesirable company, because he had unfinished business.

He would have that gem.

It would would be _his. _And so would she.

His thoughts wandered over Isabel and his intentions there - what was his sudden need to possess her? _You always want that which you cannot have_, he chided himself. When it was a game of seduction, it was an enjoyable, slow game of chess with the woman. She was losing, but, that was to be expected. With Alester - with her 'husband' walking this earth - it was a different matter entirely.

There was a surge of jealousy, perhaps, and he would not deny it.

It wasn't until he was in mid-air that Loki realized anything was awry. It wasn't until he had smashed into the wall of the penthouse floor before he felt the pain. Something had struck him - very hard - and with no warning. Moaning in pain, Loki picked himself up from the wreckage of the wood panelling. He braced for a second impact, but none came. Loki pulled a large splinter of wood from out of his side, hissing as it took a piece of skin with it. Anger quickly stood hand-in-hand with the sharp pain, and he turned. He needn't wonder who had done the damage.

"And what have I done to upset you _now?_"

Alester Solomon stood at the top of the stairs near the bar, the space Loki had previously been occupying. The blond man was rigid, but unmoving, his face a look of deep hatred. Perhaps he wasn't the only jealous one in the room.

"You will cease all contact with my wife, Loki No-One's-Son," Alester said quietly. Loki wasn't sure, but it appeared that the man's shadow was... moving on its own. Of course. Loki had spent more of the fight watching Alester and his abilities than actually battling the Chitauri. From his observations, Isabel's likening the warlock to a 'hive of bees' was an apt comparison. Each of his souls acted under the direction of the hive, but moved just barely out of line on its own.

And he had angered the nest. Lucky him.

"I believe your marriage is in question," Loki replied, chidingly. If there was one gift that he had, it was the art of provokation. And Alester was a large, bleeding wound begging to be prodded. "If I am to listen to Isabel, she renounces any claim you have on her. So what am I to believe, Solomon? Does she have agency, or is she a belonging of yours?"

Alester's eyes darkened further, as the man slowly walked down the steps towards Loki. The wound in his side had already mended itself. The trickster knew he wasn't ready for a brawl with the _thing_ that had taken down Thanos. But, the angrier they are, the easier they are to convince to run off a proverbial cliff.

"She is very precious to me..." Alester responded, a clear warning.

"I did not question that. Then I ask you again - is she a person or a possession?" Loki found, over his years, that the calmer he played his hand, the more fury he could produce in his opponent. He didn't summon his battle armor to him - it was a risk, as he was vulnerable. But every good play comes with risk.

"I have no need to answer any inquiry from you," came the response, a hiss of anger.

"I believe then your answer is clear," Loki said, brushing some sawdust off of his shoulder. "You feel as though you _own_ her, and therefore find it only logical to make such decisions _for_ her. I believe it is that assumption that forced her hand and led her to seek your death." Oh, this was fun.

Alester tilted his head back just slightly, his face a mask. "I do not own her."

"Then it is settled. If the lady wishes to speak to me, if the lady wishes to... spend time in my presence," he left the innuendo in the air. "Then it is _her_ decision, not yours."

"You desire the soul gem, then, is it? That is what you want? Then I will give it to you," Alester said with a snarl. "I will give it to you - but I will keep Isabel by my side."

Loki shrugged. "A bad bargain. As far as I am concerned, both are incomplete without the other. Does she know that she holds a piece of the stone's power within her, or have you not told her that you _traded_ the parts, not simply removed her own?"

"Clever of you to notice. She does not know," Alester said, the anger faltering for just a moment.

"Then I will not accept your bargain. I will have them both."

"You will have _nothing_ then, Lord of Lies," Alester snarled, his anger returning easily. "I offer you now the ability to take this artifact and go - but you will not. It would win you this world easily - weakened power notwithstanding - now that you are free to play your own manner of game unbidden to the rules of others, but you deny it. Why? For her? What does she mean to you? Certainly you do not _love_ her."

"No," Loki shrugged. "But you seem to, so, perhaps I could over time," he finished, dismissively. "There must be _something_ in her worth the notice, although besides her _slightly_ above-average beauty I cannot for the life of me ascertain precisely what it is you see in her. No matter. Her.. physical assets are more than enough to amuse me for time enough."

And that was one step too far, apparently. Loki suddenly found himself pinned to the ground, Alester over him. Loki's head impacted the stone once, twice, three times - he felt the stone shatter and crack under his head. The pain was blinding, but so was the humor of once again putting an imprint in Stark's floor. He decided to laugh.

"I am glad you laugh, Loki, for I will laugh with you as I pound the teeth from your head!" Alester snarled as he punched him. Loki didn't struggle - there was no point. One, he couldn't win. Two, he was counting on company.

"Goddamn it, I just _fixed that floor!_" Came a familiarly annoying voice.

Stark. Ever prompt when needed. Loki was hysterically outmatched against Alester - but when did Loki ever need fists to win a fight?

Alester was off of him as soon as he realized they were interrupted. Loki groaned and rolled onto his side, spitting blood onto the floor. He couldn't see the conversation, but he didn't need to. Now he was to play wounded - plant the seed into their minds that Alester was dangerous. It wasn't a hard act to play.

"Look, normally I'd be sitting here with a glass of jack and cheering you on, but - do I wanna know what this is all about?" Stark asked.

"I apologize deeply for my offense and for the damage to your floor... I had a moment of weakness and found myself in need of causing the Lord of Lies pain."

"I can totally understand that - but seriously - the hell happened?"

"He made a disparaging remark towards Isabel," Alester replied. "Loki wishes to take both the soul gem and Isabel from me, for his own means," Alester replied.

Damn. Loki had hoped that Solomon would remain tight-lipped on that, but, no matter. Loki began pushing himself up to standing, wiping the blood from his nose. "Isabel does not trust you," Loki spoke, finally dragging himself upright. "And does not wish to remain in your _possession. _You assume that I would use the stone to take this world, but have I ever said such a thing?"

"You needn't bother," Alester replied, his face still dark with hatred, but his voice more even.

Loki shrugged. "I will not argue the perceived contents of my own mind."

"Look," Tony cut in again. "I don't care if you two want to beat the daylights out of each other fighting over a girl. Just don't do it in my goddamn living room, okay?"

Alester bowed his head low. "I apologize again."

"For now, it's fine. It was funny. And he's bleeding - double funny. Just cut the shit," Tony replied, pointing at Alester before walking away, muttering something about 'gods and demons.'

Once Tony had left, slamming the door, Loki turned his attentions back to Alester, a slow grin playing across his face. It hurt to smile, but, it was worth it. "And the game is set."

Alester turned and walked away, heading up the stairs. "You will lose," he replied simply. "For you play this game for yourself. I play this game for others. I am a worse creature than you by all values - I have brought more death and more suffering to this world than you ever will. And yet... I am loved by others. I have those who would gladly call me friend, or _brother._ No one will mourn you when I put you in the grave," Alester finished without sparing him a glance, disappearing through the door.

Loki narrowed his eyes. Picking up a lamp on the table nearby, he hurled it at the glass panes - and watched it shatter. This game would be a personal one, it seemed... Good. Let it come.

* * *

Isabel sat in the kitchen, sitting on a stool, eating a sandwich. It was an awkward time of day to eat - between meals, and Pepper had convinced her that the dinner was to be a grand spread, since she was awake - a celebration for their victory. So she was to just have something to tide her over. It was fine - the sandwich was amazing to her empty stomach.

"So, really, who _is_ Alester?" Pepper asked, sitting on the stool across the island from her. She was smiling, the question almost smacked of a schoolyard playground, but there was too much intelligence in her to think it petty.

"Dangerous," she replied, taking a sip of her coffee.

"They all are, though. I mean... just to different degrees. On any given day we have gods, monsters, super-humans and all sorts of people coming through those doors. Hell, I think I'm the only normal one left here," she laughed.

"You're dating Tony Stark. That makes you superhuman in many regards. And potentially a saint," Isabel said with a matching laugh. She liked Pepper - a great deal.

"_And_ I run his company. I get to deal with his craziness on both a personal _and_ professional level."

"I would have killed him by now," she said, the smile tainted by the sudden realization that she should probably not make jokes about that.

"I've thought about it," Pepper replied. "I've thrown a few things at his head, though, which always helps."

"Uh oh," came a voice from the door. "Girl talk. And I think I just heard my name. Should I be running?" Tony said as he walked into the room. Isabel looked down into her coffee. "By the way, Izzie, your husband just bashed your boyfriend into the concrete floor."

"What?!" her head snapped up. "He's not my - and he's not-"

"Pro tip - don't bother," Pepper said with that 'I've been there' look of pity that Isabel usually saw her with. "He's being clever, and there's no convincing him otherwise."

Tony smiled and feigned innocence. "I'm always clever, Pep."

"See?" Pepper said to Isabel.

"So," Tony said, taking a seat at the stool, sipping his ever-present glass of alcohol. "Should I be concerned by the fact that I have a God of Lies and a whatever-the-hell-he-is ready to maim each other currently living in my building?"

Isabel shook her head. "Alester has a bad temper on some topics... myself included, apparently. It was a momentary lapse in judgement, he usually does not lash out like that... And If Alester decides to kill Loki - we won't know it's happened."

"That's... comforting," Tony replied.

"How has..." Isabel started, unsure of how to finish. "How has Alester been, since...?"

"A perfect gentleman," Pepper said with a shrug. "He's thoughtful, funny, charming, accommodating, gentle - and utterly untrustworthy. He'd make a phenomenal businessman."

Isabel laughed.

"Lets me run tests on him like they're nothing, and answers all of Fury's questions. Fury commanded he 'stay put' here - and he's follows orders, it seems."

"It suits him for the time being. In his view, he is dealing with frightened sheep. And he sees himself the shepherd. He is trying to win you all to his side," Isabel shook her head.

"I don't follow anybody but myself," Tony replied with a snort. "So I wish him the best of luck in that."

Pepper sighed. "But he has the stone, and won't give it up. Fury asked for it back, and he said no. Said it was for his 'own good,' and that 'if the stone is not being worn, it can corrupt those around it, and he is the best candidate as keeper, since he has no intentions to use it.'"

"Which I find utter bull," Tony interjected. "Who the hell believes he wouldn't use that stone?"

"I do," Isabel replied quietly. She stared down into her coffee. "He swore to me he would never use it - that he only keeps it to keep me 'safe.' He had the option of using it to save his own life when Uriel and I killed him. He kept his vow."

"Oh," Tony replied. They sat in silence for a long moment while they all mulled over the thought. "So," Tony started. "Let me get this straight. We have Loki, who we all know and _love_, who wants to use you and the stone to try and rule the world. Or Alester, a seemingly benign and charming megalomaniac who thinks you belong to him and wants to lock you in a tower while he tries to rule the world. Great."

"Can't we just destroy the gem?" Pepper asked.

"It's possible," Isabel said quietly. "But I would be destroyed along with it."

"Oh," Tony and Pepper said in unison.

"That's a downer," Tony muttered. "And off the table, then."

Isabel smiled. "I appreciate the sentiment."

"Look, Izzie, I know we haven't always been on the best of terms - and S.H.I.E.L.D. hasn't been so nice to you. But you're with us now, and we're not going to let those two nimrods push you around."

Isabel smiled warmly and wished she could believe him. But the thought was wonderful - to think that she might have friends after all this time.

She hoped it would last.


	17. Chapter 17

Hi All! I'm so sorry to have left you all in the lurch for so long on this. I was trying to figure out where it was going - and the path that it's going is the reason why I switched this back to an 'M' rating. While there is nothing graphic in this chapter, it's heading that way. It'll likely get violent, and 'graphically romantic' by the time the story is done.

Again, I apologize - and enjoy! (Also - this chapter may sound like this is going Mary Sue 'I have two men in love with me and my life is pain - but sit tight. Trust me. ;) )

* * *

"What are your intentions?"

Loki looked over from where he stood in the mirror, straightening the collar on his white shirt. Everyone was called to the 'celebration dinner' and he thought he might arrive in Midgard clothing. His attentions to the fabric were interrupted as Isabel had burst into his 'room' - they weren't chambers to speak of, but what could he ask of Midguardian 'luxury,' after all - with no fanfare, and yet again, no knock. Her face was a mask of stone, but he could see the anger in her eyes.

"Is this to end the same way as the last time you burst into my chambers, unannounced? If so, I will not bother buttoning my shirt," he said with a smirk.

Isabel sighed, and asked again. "What are your intentions? I need to know."

"Why should I show you my hand?"

"I feel like I have a right to know."

"Do you now?" He enjoyed plucking her strings - and currently they were out in the open. Every flash of emotion ran across her face, and he almost felt like he was playing a musical instrument. She clenched her hands into fists, relaxed them, and then clenched them again. It was clear she had no clue how to proceed. "It would be horribly unsportsmanlike if I were to reveal to you my strategy."

"Unsportsmanlike?" She glared at him now, anger flashing across her face. "Tell me - is that all this is to you?! Am I just the pot on the table in your game of cards?" she hissed.

Loki felt his face grow dark - and it must have showed, for her look of fury faltered for half a second. He walked towards her slowly as he spoke. "Not once have I given you cause to question my motives. Indeed, even as I stand here before you, the God of Lies, I have not lied to you - not once. That cannot be said the same for _you._" He placed his hand at her collar bone - not around her neck, but laying flat against her chest, and pushed her up against the wall. She struggled to push him away and step to the side, but he closed the distance between them and blocked her path. If she wanted to escape, she would have to strike him now. She chose instead to look away - her eyes a flashing series of confused emotions. Interesting. "We have yet to discuss in full your 'marriage.'"

"I am not married to him. He claims me as his wife, but that does not make us wed."

"He loves you."

"Yes," she said, her heart clearly twisting. "He _created_ me to be his wife. I am nothing but his latest work of _'art.'" _she ground out the last word sarcastically. "My path has never been mine to choose."

Loki leaned his head in towards her, his hands shifting to place his palms against the wall on either side of her head. He could almost hear her heart pounding. Her confusion and her pain were radiating from her as strongly as her clear attraction to him. She kept her head turned from him, her cheek to the wall, not wanting to face him, and what he represented. He leaned in, and placed a light kiss against the line of her jaw. He pulled back from the slight embrace and kept his lips hovered close to her skin as he spoke, barely above a whisper.

"I do not love you, Isabel."

"I know."

Even still, he felt her hand on his shirt, clenching the fabric in between her fingers, as if she were clinging to him. Is that what he was to her? Hope? He had never been anyone's 'hope' before. Twice she had begged him to take her away from all this, and twice he had refused her. If she asked, he would deny her again. He would have her, _and_ the stone. Nothing less.

"You could be a god, Isabel," he said quietly against her skin. "You are a brilliant intelligence, and far more just than many of those who call themselves deities... myself included. You understand the balance required in the universe between life and death. Your power... your potential... with focus, and time, you would be a creature of unknowable power. That is my intention. To make you such."

"And in turn you would wish to wield this 'power' to your own ends," she said, her voice still low.

"Of course."

"Do you understand the undesirability in the choice that lays before me?" she said quietly, shutting her eyes, her cheek still up against the wall. "The psychopath who wants to cage me, or the psychopath who wants to use me."

"At least with me, we'll travel?"

That got a quiet laugh out of her throat. "You are an insufferable-"

He cut her off as he kissed her. They were headed for another war of wits, and he wanted her to think with something other than her mind. That, and he had wished to kiss her. He was becoming fond of his 'chess partner.' Indeed, he should be fond of her, if he wished to train her to become what he saw in her. If she was to ever trust him, there must be some emotional bond there. And he would not deny that kissing her was not pleasurable to him. Perhaps it was the simple fact that he was want to covet those things that were beloved of others - but he had found himself desiring her.

But if he was to convince her to cross the desert to quench her starvation, he would have to whet her appetite. He pulled back from her slowly, and placed another slow kiss against her jaw. "I believe we'll be late for dinner, my dear," he purred into her ear.

He feigned injury, but with a smile, as she punched him flat in the center of the chest.

* * *

Loki had insisted that they walk through the doors to Tony's 'banquet hall' together. He was trying to rile up Alester, and she didn't know why she went along with this suicidal plan. If there was anyone in this world who could provoke Alester into a violent outbreak, despite his attempts to convince everyone that he was benign, it would be Loki.

As they stepped inside, Isabel forced herself to look up from the floor. This was awkward - and she wanted nothing to do with this 'celebration.' It was Fury's idea, and that meant that he was also planning something. Put all the volatile chemicals into a pot together and shake it, and see what happens. Before they had made it ten steps into the room, Alester stood up from his seat, and approached them.

"Now don't go putting a hole in my floor, Al," Tony shot from where he stood at the bar, pouring himself a drink. "This marble is Venetian."

Alester barely broke his stride, as he turned his head towards the millionaire and bowed his head low. "I will not harm your floor - or Loki's head."

"Hey, I didn't say anything about not hurting Loki," Tony smirked.

Alester turned his attention back to them, his eyes not leaving Loki as he walked up. "It seems that you are somehow not desired amongst them, Lord of Lies," he goaded.

"My presence is desired by _some_," Loki said back with a smug smile.

Isabel wondered if anyone else had noticed that Alester's shadow moved on its own volition - it was one of the most unnerving things she had ever seen in her life - that it seemed to move out of sync with him. In this instance, his shadow clenched its fists, although Alester did not move. Isabel moved to take a step back, but Alester reached out and caught her wrist - not violently - but not leaving room for argument.

"My dear, come, why don't you sit with me?" He said, and although his voice was sweet and harmless, she knew the threat that lay underneath.

"I-"

"Oh! There you are Isabel-" Pepper said as she walked up to the two towering, angry men. Pepper placed her hand on Alester's arm, and smiled her best smile at him. Alester's hand around her wrist loosened. "I need Isabel for a moment, if you wouldn't mind? I need her opinion on the etiquette of the crudite, what with our having several guests that are a hundred years old - or more - I figured she'd be the best source of knowledge on these things."

"Of course," Alester said quietly, a warm smile cross his face as he took a step back.

And with that, Isabel was whisked off into the kitchen next to the banquet hall. She leaned up against the wall near the door, and looked at Pepper with a genuine smile. "I owe you my life for that."

"Talk about egos," Pepper shook her head and walked over to one of the trays, and pointed at the silverware arrangements to one of the caterers, giving them a note as to which way to arrange them on the table. "I don't know how you can stand it."

"I can't," Isabel shook her head. "I'd jump off the balcony if I thought it would do me any good," she laughed.

"Oh, lord, hun, I'm sorry." Pepper sighed. "I can't imagine what it's like being the rope in a tug-of-war with those two."

"Problem is, I don't see a way out of it."

Pepper shrugged. "Things work themselves out. It'll be okay."

"I hope you're right," Isabel replied, placing a hand to her head. This whole thing was going to make her ill.

"But, hey, there's one bright side to this," Pepper said with her best 'girl talk smile.'

"Oh?"

"They're both hot."

* * *

Walking back out fifteen minutes later, she saw that the argument had clearly been settled - not sure how, not sure she wanted to know. But, there was a vacant spot next to Alester, and Loki was seated next to Thor near the end of the table, between Thor and Tony Stark of all people.

Back in 'the day,' the seat you had at a table carried more social significance than many things in this world. The order in which people took their seats, who sat where, who sat closest to what, was the cause of many feuds. It was funny to see that the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

Putting on her best stoic face, she approached her chair. Alester went to stand - to help her sit, but she took the chair and yanked it out from under the table, shooting him a very clear glare. She would do this herself. She would have no chivalry from him. He settled back down in his chair with a sigh. After sitting, she picked up her glass of wine and downed it. This drew a laugh from Bruce, who was sitting to her other side. He was looking at her with that warm half-smile that he tended to wear.

"I don't blame you," Bruce said gently.

"I think it's why wine was invented," she replied. "For those of us trapped at awkward dinner parties."

Bruce laughed, and shook his head. "Best theory I've heard in a long time."

"I apologize if you feel 'trapped,'" Alester said quietly from her right. She turned her head to look at him, and leaned back in her chair so as to allow Bruce to overhear. She didn't know why that was important to her - but somehow it was. The look on Alester's face was dark, yet, sullen.

"That statement runs deeper than perhaps you intend it to," Isabel replied cooly.

"Perhaps it does. Perhaps it doesn't," Alester returned, leaning forward to pour her another glass of wine from the decanter.

The dinner continued from there - people chatting, talking, teasing and goading each other. Loki even regaled the table with a story from his and Thor's childhood, which drew laughs from everyone - including Alester. Alester answered questions whenever asked, and played the charming socialite in the best way he knew how. The one thing that Isabel caught - and it made her laugh - was that Maria Hill seemed a little too caught up in Alester's conversation. Alester paid her very little mind. If that woman only knew. The dinner went on without incident, and at times it was almost enjoyable.

Victor and Jacob were happily answering the 'so you were born in the 1850's' questions, talking about the changes in social culture, and so on. Isabel would pitch in when asked - she did not mean to adopt a 'speak when spoken to' attitude this evening, but it was hard with so many conversations going on at once.

"Forgive me if this is a touchy subject," Bruce said, pulling the glasses from his face and gently cleaning them with his napkin. Isabel felt a moment of dread. "I'm sort of pig-headed about touchy subjects, but-" Isabel noticed the mischief in his eyes. She couldn't help but smirk - whatever he was doing, he was doing on purpose. Pig-headed indeed. "So, if you took a piece of Isabel's soul, and tore it out, to stick in that necklace you're wearing - which - I suppose you had a good reason to do - but why don't you go ahead and reverse the process?"

"It cannot be done, sadly," Alester responded.

"Mmmh, sure," Bruce said dismissively, clearly not believing him. "Do you regret doing it? I mean, do you regret doing that to her?"

"I do," Alester responded quietly. "I regret my choice. But at the time, it was what I felt I needed to do."

"Why did you feel you needed to do that, anyway?" Bruce asked.

"To control her," Alester replied bluntly.

Isabel reached her hand forward to grasp her wine glass, but was stopped as Alester's hand took hold of her wrist. Again, it was not violent - but firm. He continued talking, but she would not look at him - she would not meet his face. "I was a fool. I thought that if I controlled her, if I kept her tied to me, she would eventually love me. As keeping her bound to me is my only sin against her, I thought - wrongly - that she would in time forgive me for my act of cruelty." He released her wrist, and sat back in his chair. "I was incorrect in that."

Isabel put her hands in her lap to keep her hands from shaking. Isabel poured over the words - it was both an apology... and a threat. A threat of what, she didn't know. She finally turned he head up to look at Alester, but his face was a mask. There was nothing there as he looked back at her, and that caused her stomach to twist in fear. She didn't know why.

"Well, I suggest you find out a way to put her back together," Bruce shrugged. "You know what they say - if you love something, set it free," he said with a goofy smile. Bruce was playing a dangerous game - but Isabel realized why he played it so blatantly. What could Alester do versus the Hulk? At best they might wind up in a stalemate. Bruce had little fear of incurring the wrath of others.

"Indeed," Alester said quietly. His dour mask broke, and he smiled his most charming grin. "But enough of such dark conversations - we are here to celebrate."

And with that, the conversation was steered away. Isabel felt no comfort.

* * *

Returning to her room afterwards, she waited. She undid her hair from the delicate woven bun at the base of her neck and began to brush her hair out, taking the pins out as she went. If there was one thing that she didn't miss from the days of her childhood it was the inanely elaborate hairstyles. Fashion is want to do as it likes, and much of it has changed in form, if not function, but she abhorred the long hours sitting in front of a mirror, having two other girls fuss over her hair like it was a matter of life or death.

Isabel let her mind wander over her childhood as she waited. She knew she would not have to wait long.

"You must not fault me for feeling betrayed," she heard from behind her.

"I do not fault you," she replied. She turned from the dresser, seeing Alester where he stood, standing in the center of the room, at his full towering height, looking very out of place in his antique clothing against the modern furniture and design. "I have stopped faulting you for very many things that I have decided are simply your nature," she shook her head, and leaned back against the dresser.

"Isabel," he said quietly, the word filled with pain. "I love you... don't you understand that?"

"Of course I do," she replied. "But I do not.. I do not share in your love."

Alester winced as if he had been struck. He winced like that every time she told him the truth. "You are all in this world that matters to me. You are all that I care about, Isabel. Can you not take pity on me?"

"I can't... I can't, Alester."

"Why?!"

"Because you lied to Bruce - you _can_ make things right - you can remove the curse that you placed on me, and make me whole again. But you refuse to - simply because you cannot accept the fact that I do not love you," she replied, gripping the edges of the dresser with both hands.

"And I could free you - for what reason?" he stepped towards her, but stopped as she recoiled reflexively. He looked as though she had slapped him again. "So you could run to the arms of Loki? He plans to use you. He does not love you..."

"I know."

"But you would run to him... why?"

"Because I want to have the ability to walk my own path, Alester... because I want to be free. You have made every decision for me since before I was born into this world. You created me - and you feel that gives you the right to decide what I want and what I shall do."

Alester stood still, frozen, like a statue. She forgot that sometimes he wasn't human and he had no need to breathe. It was unnerving to speak to someone who could stop any and all motion at will, but right now he seemed to content to listen. So she continued.

"You put me in a golden cage, Alester... and although the view from my lavish prison was very nice, it was always just that - a prison. You never once opened the bars and asked me if I wanted to stay. Perhaps if you had... just... tried to win my heart on your own merits, we would be very different today."

Alester walked towards her slowly, and she did her best not to flinch. She stood still, her eyes locked on his tie, as he reached out to her, and gently ran his hands down her arms. His touch was gentle - as if he was afraid to harm her. His hands traveled back up towards her face, and for the second time in one day, by two men, she allowed herself to be kissed.

It was impossible not to compare the two. Alester was like kissing stone - if stone could be gentle. Loki, was like fire, threatening to consume. Alester broke the gentle kiss after a moment, and withdrew.

"I will make things right, then," he said quietly. "I will win you on my own merits, as you said."

"What...?" she couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"I will do what I should have done long ago... perhaps my time in death has done me well, Isabel. I will set you free of the stone."


	18. Chapter 18

Thank you again for your patience! Inspiration strikes in the weirdest ways. For anyone who wants to play along, this chapter was written to "Keep it in the Family" by Hybrid.

More to come soon. I promise.

* * *

It wavered. All of it - back and forth like some damned teeter-totter. Or a pendulum. It swung, the momentum almost predictable. It was almost a rhythm.

Hot water pounded against her back, the room caught in a hot fog. Isabel had drank one too many glasses of wine with her dinner - in eagerness to dull the stress. It had worked - but at what cost? The overwhelmingly hot water and the steam that pressed against her was suddenly juxtaposed by the cold tile that was now abruptly pressed against her cheek. She cried out - but her cry was muffled by a hand that was clamped against her mouth.

_Ssshhh..._

Someone shushed her like a child, even as they pressed her against the tile wall.

An odd thing - that no matter how hot the shower gets, the tile is always colder.

And with that, she was taken away.

Floating on the surface of that god-forsaken lake. Always that frozen lake. Was she dead? No... if she was dead, she would be floating at the _bottom. _Not the surface. She floated here, her head peeked above the water - arms outstretched as she lay, unmoving. She couldn't move if she wanted to. Couldn't move if she tried.

And oh, she tried.

Like a fever dream, she was back. Her back was pressed against the tile wall now, and someone's fingers bit roughly into her thigh, as they pressed themselves onto her - into her. Their presence was overwhelming, taking away what little air was to be had amongst the steam. She cried again - but out of pain, or pleasure, she couldn't be sure.

_Ssshhh..._

She tried to move her arm, where it lay frozen. She tried. And a few times, she could almost imagine that she had done it. She could visualize herself moving her arm, lifting it up, struggling to free herself from the prison in which she lay. But it was always a dream. She never moved her arm. She couldn't. She hovered in between.

A flash - an image came to her mind - of marble. Surrounded by marble.

The shower had been marble... but the wrong kind. This marble was grey... that marble had been rose.

She clung desperately - gripped onto the arms that held her - but they were slipping.

She lay in the lake.

With all her strength, she managed to turn her head - or did she? Did she even move at all? She had never _seen_ the lake before. No, merely floated beneath it's freezing waters. But now, she could almost see it - black against black, shining onyx against a matte surface. She could almost see her hand - almost curl her fingers. Or was it a dream?

Dead but dreaming.

Here she lay, dead _and dreaming._

* * *

"I have a favor to ask of you," Isabel spoke quietly from where she stood by the door. She hated interrupting people while they were working - but she suspected this man was always working.

"Excuse me?" Tony Stark asked as he swiveled around in his chair.

"I know we aren't... I know you do not owe me anything, Mr. Stark," Isabel spoke as she stepped forward slowly. "But I need to beg a favor from you."

Maybe it was the look of fear on her face, but Tony's usually flippant expression was paused, stilled, as he furrowed his brow.

"I'll do what I can."

* * *

The lake took her again.

It was the overwhelming stillness that was so impossible. She couldn't breathe. Her heart couldn't beat. She lay, here, locked between both places, and yet utterly neither. The other places were better. The other places were _simpler. _The other places... so less painful.

So she let her mind drift again.

* * *

Loki looked up from his book as she entered the room. "You really must learn to knock, dear," he said with a small smirk.

"I like to catch you off-guard when I can," Isabel replied, but there was no mirth in her voice.

He sensed something was wrong. It was easy to, with the look on her face. "What troubles you?"

"Alester claims he will restore my soul... that he will release his hold on me." She said, her hand still on the doorknob. She watched the reflection of broken shadows as he stood up and walked towards her. For some reason, she didn't look up at his face. Or did she? She didn't remember.

"And you believe him?"

"I don't trust him."

"And nor should you," he said as he reached forward, and stroked her hair behind her ear. She shut her eyes. _No. No. Remember this. Open your eyes and remember this. _

She opened her eyes, and looked up at his chiseled face. God, he was beautiful. She could get lost in those eyes - and for a moment, she did.

* * *

Where was she? Or they? Who was to know. The first images she saw was an explosion - light shattering against darkness, and a noise like something ripping asunder. She had heard a jet engine once, coming to a sudden stop - and this was similar.

Hopelessness.

Sad, and utter hopelessness.

"I could have done it, father! I could have done it! For you! For all of us!"

"No, Loki."

It was a plea - a last plea at a shattered life - and it was rejected. She felt the emptiness like it was her own memory - felt the nothingness as the void closed around her.

For she lay here, in the void.

Or somewhere in between.

She wasn't quite sure.

* * *

A flash of cloth and light as she felt lips press against hers in desperation.

"Please," a voice begged her.

"No, Alester."

It was a plea - a last plea at a shattered life - and it was rejected.

* * *

"Why here?" she asked, her hand brushing along the granite stone of the sarcophagus that stood next to her.

"It seemed appropriate," Alester said quietly from where he stood, looking up at the stained glass window - the only window to the vault.

"I should not have trusted you, should I...?" Isabel asked. Or did she? Is that how this went? It was hard to remember.

"No, you should not have, my love..."

* * *

"Why here?" she asked, her hand brushing along the granite stone of the table-top tomb that stood next to her. The crickets were out in full force, chirping their songs to everyone around them, filling the otherwise empty night with a life and a vibrance of its own.

"It is quiet, and out of the way," Alester replied. He helped lift her up onto the stone, and pressed his hands against her shoulders, laying her down on the stone. It was cold against her back - funny, that no matter how warm the night air, stones always seemed to be colder.

She looked up at him, and smiled faintly. "Thank you for doing this," she said quietly.

"Do not thank me," he responded, and she saw the coldness there. And then she knew.

He leaned down, and kissed her - pressing his lips against her mouth with a fervent passion, a begging _need_. Not for attention. No. For her love. One of his hands closed around her throat. He broke the kiss, his lips hovering over hers, his breath hot against her face. She saw a sickly green glow - the glow of the Soul Gem that he wore around his neck.

"Please," he begged. He was begging for her love - for her acceptance - for her to stop him. To stop whatever he was about to do.

She shut her eyes, tears escaping her eyes and into her hair.

"No, Alester."

* * *

A flash of something...

"Let us come to a mutual arrangement, Lord of Lies..."

But so quickly it was gone.

* * *

Now that she thought about it - she would much rather prefer sinking through this lake than floating atop it. It was horrible, floating. So cold.

Floating here, she could see so much, and yet, maybe so little. Was she hallucinating all this? Was it part of her mind? Who were these people, floating in the lake beside her? They might as well have been stars in the sky, they were so far away... and yet, she saw them there.

* * *

_Who is that, just there?_

"I will strike you a deal, Director Fury," Loki spoke from where he materialized inside the command center of S.H.I.E.L.D. Fury nearly lept a foot in the air, and drew his pistol. Loki was accustomed now to staring down the barrels of Midgardian weaponry. It was no longer intimidating. The man who sat at the console near him, though, was not nearly so composed as Fury - simply falling from his chair and landing with an unceremonious 'thump' against the floor. The God of Lies ignored him.

"What the hell do you want, Loki?" Fury asked, grumbling as he holstered his weapon. Loki smiled internally that he was now, apparently, on the 'no-threat' list for the Director. The man by the terminal sat back on his chair, eagerly typing away at the console in an attempt to make up for his embarrassment.

"I am set to bargain with Alester for the Soul Gem. I will give it to you, and S.H.I.E.L.D., under the assumption that you will do a... significantly more efficient job of securing it than you have the _last_ two times..."

"Not following," Fury stated.

"He is playing his hand as we speak. Supposedly 'freeing' Isabel from the grasp of the Soul Gem. He is doing this, without my interference. This, on the bargain that I am to stay removed from the ceremony... in exchange for the gem itself." Loki ran his fingers along the back of the leather chairs that dotted the large circular table. This ship was mildly impressive, he'd admit - for Midgardians - when he was not imprisoned within it.

"So you want to give us the gem exactly _why_ now?" Fury raised an eyebrow at him.

"I fear he is bound to wreak his revenge against Isabel... and I will need assistance in seeing this wrong done right."

"And why do you care about Isabel?"

"Do you wish for me to spout some foolish, and likely ill-convincing drivel about rose petals and love, Nicholas, or would you settle for the simple inherent detail that she has _far _more potential than that wretched stone_, _and could prove to be far more useful?" Loki said with a thin smirk.

"And better looking," Fury rolled his one good eye.

"Out of taste I thought to omit that observation, but yes. A better companion overall," Loki's smirk became a small grin. "So what say you?"

"Yeah... yeah... you have a deal."

* * *

_So this is what death is like,_ thought the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. He thought he would die in a firefight - goodness knows plenty of his coworkers had died in a firefight in the past two years. No. He wasn't so lucky. How did he die?

_Falling down the goddamn stairs._

* * *

Hope was too far away for her, here. But it glimmered nonetheless.

_Open your eyes and remember this. _

And so she opened her eyes. But only darkness remained. Not the darkness of the matte-blackness against the onyx water - no. Real blackness. Whole blackness.

But she couldn't hold onto it for long.

* * *

"Forgive me, my love..." Alester was weeping. She could tell by the sound in his voice.

She was whole again - she knew it. She couldn't remember much of what he had done, but she felt it in her core like a warmth she had long forgotten. Funny, how you become accustomed to the emptiness.

But she could not celebrate.

She couldn't _move._

Alester had taken the opportunity, and now she was trapped. She couldn't move her limbs. She was stuck in some kind of stupor that he had placed on her - some manner of reverie. He was carrying her in his arms, cradling her gently against him as he spoke.

"You laid me in the ground for seventy years... And I am much the better for such a respite... perhaps it will do the same for you. I can only hope."

She felt something soft against her as he laid her down. Where? She could see walls - short, close to her face - on three sides. Padded, white, and delicate. Stitched with patterns of gold and silver. He was standing over her, looking down at her with such an expression of mournfulness she almost wanted to comfort him. His face was streaked with tears.

"They will forget about you... and then you will see that my love is eternal. Forgive me, my dearest Isabel."

She tried to cry out. Tried to reach out to him. But his finger was against her mouth gently. "Ssshhh..."

And with that, he shut the lid. She saw it close down on her, and all light was instantly stricken away. It was gone.

Gone.

Clicks... like something twisting - locks? And then movement... a grinding sound...

And then nothing.

Nothing but the sound of her heart beat, and her slow breathing.

But soon enough, even those slowed.

_Air only lasts so long... _

Was that her voice, or someone else's? She couldn't be sure.

_Open your eyes and remember..._

She heard the voice in her head. Not hers. Someone else's. Someone she knew. Not Alester's. Someone more comforting... someone more dangerous?

_Open your eyes and remember what he's done._

She felt her heart start to still as the air in the tiny container began to run out. It wasn't a sudden feeling - no. It was gradual. Each breath became harder than the last, each one was more work than the previous. And soon, it was just too hard. Why bother..?

She remembered.

She knew where she was.

She had been buried alive.


	19. Chapter 19

Thanks again for the wonderful reviews! Makes me happy to hear from y'all. :)

* * *

Loki stood atop Stark Tower, watching the lights of the city of New York, bright enough to drown out the stars overhead. Foolish mortals - when will they appreciate what they are a part of, instead of attempting to battle against it with their own loudness and over-agressive eagerness? Ah. He would have made a fine ruler of Midgard. He understood them, even as he held such disdain for them.

The night air whipped at his hair and his coat, curling it around him as he stood, lost in thought.

He shut his eyes, and reached his mind out - searching. It was unlikely that he could find Isabel this way, but he had spoken into her mind before. She had opened up that channel when she had gone prying through 'his dead' - he wondered if the channel was open enough to communicate now.

He winced though, as something rushed back against them. Putting his hand to his head, he sighed. There would be no communication there. It had been severed. He was right to be concerned. He was playing his hand not against the cards the other player had - no, he knew that Alester had a winning hand. No, he had to convince Alester to forfeit. He had to convince him to stand up and leave the table. So far, it was working. But now the game was dangerous.

His train of thought was broken as he felt the power surge up behind him. Turning from the edge of the building, he watched as those bizarre gold-winged demon 'souls' - like a hive of bees - roared up over the edge of the building, swarming in the air in a cloud that blocked out the moon, before settling down on the building. It was had to trace where the man began and the souls ended, but somewhere in there, they were gone, and Alester stood atop the building, facing him.

"It is done," he said, and threw something at Loki.

Loki caught it reflexively, looking down at his hand to see the Soul Gem, glowing its dull green. It seemed quiet for the time being - so he slipped it into his pocket.

"So you will be on your way, now, as will I. I have no interest in these demi-gods and super-humans," Alester shrugged his shoulders dismissively.

"What of Isabel?" Loki asked quietly, keeping his face passive.

"What of her?"

"What has happened to her?"

"She is gone," Alester's face twitched for a moment, contorting in emotional pain. "As I knew she would. As soon as she was not beholden to me due to the stone - she ran. From both of us, it seems."

"You are a decent liar, Alester... but you stand against the master. What have you done to her..?" Loki took a step towards Alester now, his face darkening.

"Do you threaten me, little god?" Alester smiled almost warmly, his laugh was a kind one. "I would think to pity your foolishness."

"What have you done to Isabel, Alester?" Loki asked again quietly.

"I cannot kill her, if that is what you are asking. I love her - more than you ever are capable of. I would never raise a hand to harm her. Perhaps she needed some peace and quiet - perhaps she has gone 'underground' for a time," he laughed once. "But she is out of your reach."

Loki narrowed his eyes at him, and then shrugged. "Very well. She was a momentary amusement, nothing more. I have the stone. Our business here is done."

Alester took a moment, studying his face, looking for some sign that Loki was lying. Looking for some excuse to start a fight. But Loki was far too _good_ at his own game. Alester sighed, and without another word, exploded into a swirl of golden winged souls, and vanished into the night sky.

**Goodness, he does like to be dramatic.**

Loki whirled around where he stood, turning around for the source of the voice. "Who is there?! Show yourself!"

**We are so very hungry... please feed us. He didn't feed us at all...**

Loki snarled angrily, summoning his battle armor to him, ready to kill whatever was about to leap from the shadows.

**Whoa, whoa, there... You aren't very bright are you? We thought you'd be smarter. But maybe you're just a bit slow... **

"Show yourself, and then you will think twice before you mock a _god!_" Loki yelled into the darkness.

**We can't SHOW ourselves, you nitwit. We are in your pocket. We think, anyway. It's hard to tell.**

Loki blinked, tilted his head, and reached his hand into his pocket, pulling out the stone. He stared at it - the green glow was pulsating slowly.

**Feed us. We hunger.**

"You can speak..?"

**To those who can listen. **

"Interesting."

**Sure.**

Loki sighed. It was sarcastic, it seemed. Great. Ever more he was cursed to be surrounded by audacity. He let it dangle from his fingers, and narrowed one eye at it. "You hunger."

**Yes. SO very much... please, take pity on us and feed us...**

It was almost whining now. He sighed, and flipped the stone into his palm, looking down at it still. "And how precisely do I feed you?"

**You haven't been paying much attention, have you...? We eat ****_souls. _****Any soul will do. Big or small. Just please, feed us! If you feed us... we promise to be your friends.**

Loki looked out at the night sky of the city, and let a slow grin cross his face. It wanted prey. And he hadn't hunted in some time... "Very well. Let us find you some dinner," he grinned wickedly.

* * *

Loki stood over the corpse of the businessman he had slaughtered. He could have killed a vagrant, but, he wanted a challenge. This one had security guards that were a passing amusement to slaughter. This businessman had been busying himself with a young woman in the back room of some... loud establishment that he thought might have been playing something that was trying to play 'music.' Either way, he, and his guards, lay dead at his feet. He was grinning. It was like killing rabbits - hardly a challenge - but still enjoyable to 'stretch his legs.'

**_Four _****souls you have fed us! So very wonderful... so very tasty, thank you, Master. Tasty tasty tasty...**

The corner of his eye twitched as the Soul Gem 'spoke' to him. It was irritating, sarcastic, and did love to seem to talk. He reached into his pocket and took out the gem, and watched the colors within it swirl, brighter than before. "You are pleased, then?"

**Oh yes!**

"Then we will strike a bargain, you and I..."

**No one has ever ****_dealed_**** with us before... Always told. Always ordered. Then we ate them. We ate them good. Always - eventually - in the dead of the night when they thought they were safe... when they thought their command over us was complete. Then we sucked them dry. But never bargained! Bargains sound fun...**

"I will continue to feed you under one condition," Loki curled his fingers through the chain, idly playing with it as he spoke. "Help me find Isabel, and you will eat your fill."

**Ooh. Hmmmmm... See, that is difficult for us... We cannot find her. We cannot see - we can only see souls. All the souls. **

Loki raised an eyebrow at that. "You can see all the souls?"

**All of them. All the time. We see all the souls in every world, in every dimension, in every possible place... But we do not see your worlds.**

"How is that possible?"

**We are not LIKE you...**

Loki sighed. Of course. It was sometimes easy to forget that things such as these were not creatures - they were not alive, not made of consciousness like most other sentient beings - but that this Gem, as convincing as it may sound, was only a charade. A collection of the bits and pieces of the souls it had devoured over its existence. It was no more a feast than a dining room table, if that dining room table had memories of all its meals since the beginning of time. "My mistake."

**No prob, Bob.**

Loki winced. Apparently more meals in recent years than most.

**So we can't tell you WHERE Isabel is... **

"But can you sense her at all?"

**Of course we can. She was part of us. We were part of her. We were family. We miss her so... **

"Does she live?"

**... We don't know.**

Loki narrowed his eyes, and gripped the chain of the stone in annoyance. "You _don't know._"

**She is... not alive. But she is not dead. She is both. And neither. Look, she's always been the weird one of the family. Now she's both dead and alive. And neither.**

Loki sighed and shook his head, turning to walk out of the back room, stepping over the legs of the corpse as he walked out into the city night.

**One other thing, though, you might want to know.**

"Oh? Pray tell," Loki said as he slipped the stone back into his pocket. He was starting to become annoyed with this thing.

**She is suffering...**

Loki faltered in mid-step, then forced himself to keep walking. He did not ask for clarification. He did not need any in that... and he wondered why it troubled him so. Those words - she is suffering - made him flinch. He would think on that later. For now, he would need better assistance in locating her.

* * *

Dreams and memories are opposing sides of the same coin. Only one thin band separates the two, and even then - it is only facets and markings that make the two distinguishable at all. But now, the dreams and memories had bled together to one seamless mess - and she drifted from one to the other, not knowing where one began and the other ended.

All she knew was the cold. The crushing cold that seemed to seep into every part of her - every dream, every memory.

* * *

Loki sat in in the over-stuffed, wingback chair in his temporary living quarters on Midgard. Someone at S.H.I.E.L.D. had arranged for what they called an 'apartment.' He was sure that he was being monitored, but - no matter. They could not intrude on him where he was about to travel.

Leaning his head back, he shut his eyes. If he could not reach Isabel when he was conscious, perhaps communicating with her while he was dreaming was still possible. It was an old magic, and one that he had learned and perfected at a young age. He let himself drift away - and reached out.

Fantastic.

Why here?

Loki narrowed his eyes at the broken Bifrost at his feet. He was alone - the shattered end of the bridge to one side, and Asgard to the other. It was as if the destruction had long since passed. He sighed quietly, the sight of the broken bridge bringing back unwanted memories.

"Why are we here?"

Loki turned his head, surprised at the interruption. Isabel stood next to him - and he fought the urge to recoil. Her skin was an ashen white. She looked... ghastly, for lack of a better phrase. But somehow perfectly preserved, only painted alabaster instead of her usual olive warmth. Her skin tone seemed to mirror her pale gray eyes.

"I am not sure."

Isabel turned her attention slowly to the city of Asgard in the distance. A faint smile crossed her face. "Is that your home?"

"It was, once." He tried not to let the bitterness encroach on his voice any more than was inevitable.

"It is beautiful," she replied quietly. "No wonder you hate us humans so... look at what you hold as a standard of quality," she chuckled.

"It is not all like what you see, but... yes, I suppose that is part of it." Loki reached forward and placed his hand on her shoulder - and winced. She was cold to the touch. "Isabel..."

"Hmm?" She turned to face him.

"Where are you?"

She paused, and looked away, her eyes darting as if she was struggling to remember. She furrowed her brow. "I... don't remember. I thought I did... but I don't. There's... marble... dust... iron fences... I was outdoors but... now I'm not... I don't remember, I'm so sorry..."

"What has happened to you?"

"I... I don't know... I thought... It's all the same, now..." She put her hand to her face, and ran it back through her hair slowly. She was clearly struggling to remember, and the more she tried, the more upset she became. Soon, she started to cry.

"No, no... ssh... Calm yourself, please..." Loki pulled her into his arms, ignoring the feeling of her cold flesh against his neck. He was Jotun - what could he complain? He felt her take hold of the front of his leather armor, clutching to him. "No use in becoming upset..."

"I don't... I don't know what's happening..."

"I know," he said quietly, lowering his head to place a kiss on top of her dark hair. "I will find you... I will save you, I swear it." He meant it. He was not being entirely altruistic, yes, but this was wrong. And he would put a stop to it.

"Please," she begged quietly.

"Isabel," he prompted quietly. He did not know why he wanted to know this... but he felt the sudden overwhelming need to ask. "Do you love me?"

Isabel lifted her head to look up at him, a thoughtful look on her face. "No... but... I think I could."

Loki smirked, just barely. That was the closest he had ever come to hearing those words. He would take it for what it was worth.

"I am so very alone," Isabel said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I always have been but now... now... I... it hurts, Loki... By the gods.. it... it hurts..." She was trembling now, and Loki knew there was nothing he could do to soothe her. "It is so very cold..."

"I know," he said quietly.

"Don't leave me," she begged, fear edging into her voice. "I fear I'm losing my mind..."

"I will not let that happen," he promised. He hoped.

Isabel reached up, and winding her fingers into the hair at the back of his neck, pulled his head down to hers in a kiss. It would have been a passionate, fiery kiss... if her skin had not been so very cold. With a sudden shock, he realized he - no - they - were falling.

Had they gone over the edge of the Bifrost? No... there were no stars... just blackness. And then cold. Then a horrible, all-consuming cold seeped into him. It began to bleed into every fiber of his body, every fiber of his mind... it was like a frozen lake, but impossibly so. Even Jotunheim was not this cold... He let out a growl of pain against her lips, and forced himself free. He thrust himself away from her - there was nothing else he could do.

Loki awoke from where he sat, jolting, nearly knocking himself out of the chair. He let out a long shuddering breath - and it turned to mist in the warm air, as if his breath was colder than it should have been. He had seen that once before... He gripped the arm chair with both hands, realizing what had happened. He had almost joined her in death - she had almost taken him down with her.

He was shaking despite himself - not from fear, but from the frozen cold that bit into his bones. It was not a natural cold - not of temperature, but of sheer lack of life. Standing on unsteady legs, he decided two things. One, he would undo this state and rescue Isabel. Two... he desperately needed a drink.

* * *

**That looks like it hurts. We would help you, y'know, if we could. Because ****_you're_**** our ****_friend. _****You ****_feed _****us. We think you enjoy feeding us.**

Loki was almost ready to throw the Soul Gem at Fury and be done with it. If just to be free of the incessant _banter. _It seemed content to talk to itself during every moment of silence.

"I cannot locate her," Loki admitted, begrudgingly. "The Soul Gem is of no assistance."

**We're trying!**

Loki tried not to twitch visibly, but he failed.

"Brother, is something the matter?" Thor asked from where he sat. The Avengers had gathered around the main table of S.H.E.L.D.'s command center to discuss what to do about Isabel.

"The Soul Gem... talks," Loki winced again. "A great deal."

"AWww, what's wrong, Lord of Lies? Someone out-talking you for once?" Stark piped from his seat, grinning as he crossed his arms across his chest.

"Tony, quit it.. He's trying to help," Natasha interjected.

"It's too much fun, Red, you know me. And he deserves it," Tony shrugged.

**Bored now.**

"He does deserve it - and I know how much fun it is. But not now," she scolded.

"Fine, _mom._ Ew. No. Strike that. That's gross," Tony made a face and shuddered dramatically.

**Want us to eat the annoying one? We could totally eat him. He looks tasty. **

Loki tried not to laugh - grin - or throw the Stone against the wall. He kept his face passive, and tried not to yell at the voice to shut up, as good of an idea as that sounded.

"I risked being dragged down again last night to try and contact Isabel... it has been six weeks since I last communicated with her but - I cannot find her now." Loki shook his head, disgust registering plainly on his face at his failure. "I have done everything I can to attempt to locate her, but... I have failed."

Fury sighed. "We haven't done any better on this end. No camera traces anywhere in our range - I even called in a few favors to S.W.O.R.D..."

"Sword?" Tony couldn't help but laugh. "What the hell is sword - and - tell me you don't have like... Armor... or Hammer... or-"

This time it was Captain America who talked over Iron Man. "So you're telling us that... she's gone. This is it - has the trail really gone cold? It's been two months since she went missing..."

Fury sighed, and dropped a folder on the table, with Isabel's name printed on it. "It seems so."

"Not... exactly," Tony muttered.

"What?" Rogers asked.

"Not... exactly gone cold, no."

**Bored again... **

"What aren't you telling us, Stark?" Fury snapped.

"See, here was my plan. She came to me, asking for help. I helped her, 'cause, I figure I kinda owe her one for going all Dr. Frankenstein on me, right? She knew something was up, but needed something on short order, so I stuck a cell tracking locater under the skin on the back of her neck and tracked her location so-"

"You knew?!" Loki roared. Within an instant, he had dragged Tony from his seat and slammed him up against the wall by the front of his shirt. He was fuming. "You knew where she was this _entire time_ and you were content to let her suffer?! Why?!"

"I-"

"_Answer me!" _Loki roared, and slammed Tony against the wall again, succeeding in rattling the continuously confident Midgardian.

"Brother, enough!" And with that, Loki was torn away from Tony Stark.

**Can we eat him now? Pleeeeeeeeaaaasseee?**

Loki allowed himself to be restrained by his 'brother,' glaring a hole into Tony where he stood. He would have his revenge for this.

"Explain yourself, Stark," Fury said, none-too-pleased either. "We all could have really used this information earlier."

"Yeah, well, for once I wasn't looking out for my best interests, okay? Or yours. I was looking out for hers." Stark brushed his hands down his shirt, grumbling about the wrinkles in the 'vintage tee.' "See, she wanted freedom to make her own choices, right? So I figured, easy, pssh. I find her, help her out of whatever Alester got her stuck in - and she gets to skip off into the distance. Free of anybody making choices for her. That includes Alester. That includes everybody in this room - Loki, Fury, I'm looking at you two." Tony shrugged. "Problem is, I lost track of her. She needed something immediate, and all I had was a cell tower GPS chip - nothing satellite. The girl just _had _to wait till the last goddamn second to ask for help, naturally. I did all the hunting that I could but... Alester must have found the chip, or something, and trashed it."

Fury sighed, and rubbed his hand over his face. "Noble in your own asinine, bull-headed way as usual. Can you give us her last known whereabouts _now, _please?"

"Yeah... lot of good it'll do you. Only thing there is some musty old cemetery."

A chill ran down Loki's spine, as it all began to piece together in his mind. "Show me where. _Now._" His urgency startled even his brother, who still had hold of his arm.

"Brother, what has happened? What has this Alester done...?"

**We wanna eat him! Eeeaaaatt hiiiiiiiim! **

"If I am right, we may be too late to salvage what is left of her shattered mind," Loki narrowed his eyes at Stark. "If she is beyond my reach, Tony Stark... if you have condemned her due to your childish grudge against me... I will rend your flesh from your bones... Do you understand?!" He hissed.

"Oh yeah. He's reformed. Totally." Stark rolled his eyes and walked out of the room. "I'll get my suit, kiddos."

"I really hate feeling like the odd man out here," Fury snapped from where he stood. "Care to clue us in?"

"I hope you own shovels, Director Fury," Loki said quietly. "You will need them..."


	20. Chapter 20

Thank you again for the reviews! Enjoy! :)

* * *

It was rare that Loki was unsure of where to even begin. This cemetery was... sprawling, to put it mildly. They had gone north from Stark Tower, somewhere by the coast where the trees felt older, and that the earth itself seemed to have some latent energy to it. The family plots were squeezed in helter-skelter amongst the trees and sloping moss-covered hills. With the latent power that he sensed, it would be hard, if not impossible, to sense Isabel by her aura alone. No. This wouldn't be that easy.

"You seriously proposing we dig up this whole goddamn joint?!" Fury grumbled from next to him.

"I do not see how to avoid any other method..." Loki shook his head, narrowing his eyes.

**We can eat him too, you know. Seriously. Point us at anyone you don't like. Om nom nom, problem solved.**

"Please be quiet," Loki hissed quietly.

"Look, Loki-" Fury started in to snap at him.

"I wasn't speaking to _you, _Fury," Loki grumbled.

"Right. Stone still talking?"

"It doesn't stop."

**We miss Isabel. She didn't mind us talking... She liked the company.**

Loki missed some snide comment directed at him because the stone had, for once, said something interesting. "Wait. You can speak to her?"

**Could. Past tense. Can't. Not now. She's not listening. Or she can't talk. Or both. ... We're going with both.**

"You could talk to her, though, before? But she couldn't hold the gem."

**Wow, Sparky, pay attention, wouldja? No, she couldn't touch us. Duh. But. She. Was. Part. Of. Us. And. Vice. Versa. So I guess you could say we're kinda tight, you dig?**

Loki tried not to scream in rage. If this was the universe's attempt at paying him penance for his crimes against Midgard, it might actually discourage another attempt on his part.

"Is Slappy over there talking to himself again?" Stark asked from behind the metal helm of his suit.

"Will you all stop jesting with me for a moment and let me think?!"

The stone and Stark answered in unison.

"Nope." **Nope.**

Loki put both hands over his face and growled low. He would suffer this indignity. He would. He had fallen through the void, and suffered great wounds at the hand of Thanos. But if there was one thing he could never sacrifice, if there was one wound he would never suffer happily, it was a wound to his pride.

"I hate this place," Stark sighed loudly from inside his helmet. "It gives me the heebies. It's like the trees are _looking _at me."

"They probably are," Thor commented, crossing his arms over his chest. "In our world, some trees are ancient, sentient beings. These feel similar. Younger."

"So the _trees_, are actually _looking at me._" Tony sighed. "Great! So we're in some creepy-ass graveyard with some creepy-ass trees, surrounded by creepy-ass dead people, trying to find some creepy-ass queen of the dead. Fan-freaking-tastic!" he ranted, throwing his arms up in the air. "This is what I get for helping!"

Loki pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes, trying to concentrate. He tried to focus, and tried to remember every word that Isabel had spoken to him. Something of marble. He opened his eyes as it all began to click together again. Damn, he was brilliant when he tried. "Stark," Loki said quietly. "List to me the limitations of the... little metal-"

"Cellular GPS chip. Just stop before you strain yourself." Stark shook his head. "Look, it's not my best work. It's a part, really, not even supposed to be used on its own. I had to hack it together out of whatever I had sitting on my desk, and yet make it small enough to inject-"

"I don't care!" Loki snapped. "I do not wish to listen to you spout about your brilliance, I am only interested in the limitations of your little device!"

**Any time. Seriously. Offer stands. **

Tony sighed loudly again. "Ten rounds - you and me - seriously."

"You name the day, mortal," Loki snarled through gritted teeth.

"Yeah. You bet I will."

"Can you two stay focused for _ten goddamn minutes?!_" Fury shouted. Loki turned his attention to the other man, and saw that the rest of their contingent, consisting of Thor and Natasha, were not nearly so enraptured with their argument as he and Stark apparently were. Natasha, indeed, looked as though she was debating how to blow holes through the both of them and be done with it.

"Fine. Look, cellular signal is notoriously bad. Especially without an antenna."

"What would... block its abilities?" Loki asked, hoping that this little exorcize was not a waste of his time.

"First, Goldenrod, it doesn't have _abilities,_ it's a piece of technology. It has a _signal. _Second, lots of things would block its signal. Wood, stone, anything dense. Things like-" He broke off suddenly, and let out a 'huh' noise. "Dirt isn't dense enough. Huh. You're onto something here, Rudolph."

"Thank you," Loki growled, and stormed away. "If the signal is not strong enough to penetrate stone, gentlemen, then I think we need more hammers than we need shovels... I believe she is in a crypt, not a grave. I also doubt Alester would have gone through the trouble of masking the fresh dirt..."

"That still doesn't narrow it down much," Natasha observed. "This place is full of crypts. That puts us down by... what... half?"

"Half less digging!" Thor boomed cheerfully. "And in fact, no digging at all! Only destroying stone. Which," Thor hefted Mjolnir up to his shoulder. "I think I could make quick work of."

"Try not to trash the joint, okay, gentlemen?!" Fury sighed, pulling out his cellphone. "As it is, this cover-up job is going to be expensive."

And so, it began.

* * *

It was all a blur. Had she been here for two hours? Two years? Two centuries? Was she here at all? She did not know. Everything ran together like ink in the rain.

Suddenly, she stood on the sidewalk on a city street. London. She had loved visiting London - it was such the fashion in 'her day.' Oh, these dresses - these awful, constricting dresses. But they looked so wonderful. And men - men's fashion never reached a height quite as much as it did during the 'late Victorian' days. Not that she thought of it as that, though. It was not an 'era.' It was just when she grew up.

She held on to Alester's arm, standing close to him as he held the umbrella over her to protect her from the rain. The wet stones shone in the gas lamplights, the sounds of the crowds accented with the clips of horse shoes on cobblestones. She was suddenly overwhelmed by nostalgia - but how? Had this happened before? Had it happened at all? She _missed_ this. How could she miss it if it hadn't happened? Shaking her head, she returned to the moment - or, she thought she did. They had just attended a symphony, and Alester had a smile on his face as he hummed one of the overtures from the evening. "Did you enjoy the concert?"

"Very much so, thank you," she smiled.

"We should get you inside before you become drenched," he chuckled. "Your dress, however gorgeous, seems to love puddles," he said with a small laugh.

"I don't mind it," she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she walked. "Although I am so very jealous of you who are able to wear pants in public," she shook her head.

"I do not envy you, that is true."

"Alester?" Who was she talking to, now? The memory, the man, or the dream?

"Yes, my love?"

"Why did you do this to me..?" She wasn't even sure what she was referencing anymore. Why did he do _anything_ to her, she supposed.

The sounds of the crowd halted - in fact, all noise halted. "I felt I had to..."

"But why...?"

"I did not trust that you could love me on your own accord," Alester turned to face her, still holding the umbrella over them - although the sound of the rain had ceased with everything else.

She looked up at him, at the sorrow in his eyes, at the sadness in his voice. She reached up and placed her hands on his chest. "But in doing so, you drive me away... Your chains are hurting me... I'm so... so very cold, Alester..."

"I know..." His face contorted in pain. "I am a fool, for all of my wisdom."

"Let me go, Alester, let me go..."

"I cannot. If I do, you will... you will never suffer my presence. You cannot tell me for one moment that you could ever forgive me for what I have done to you, even now." He wrapped his arms around her, but did not draw her close. "I cannot think of my place on this world without you, Isabel. It is empty, alone... and fruitless."

"And what is my world, then, if not exactly that?"

Alester closed his eyes tight - tears escaping down the sides of his cheeks. His grip on her tightened, but not painfully so. "Could you ever love me, Isabel...? Could you ever do such a thing..?"

"I don't know," she replied. "You never let me try..."

"Is the damage too far done?"

"I do not know my heart well enough - I do not think anyone does. Perhaps I might forgive you, but... I do not know. I don't know what is happening to me, Alester. I don't... I don't understand where I am..." She felt the cold again - the cold was always with her, but when she tried to focus, when she tried to pull her mind back to what was happening, it was like daggers in her very core. It was so painful now, she recoiled into these dreams - memories - her new reality - to distract herself from the pain.

For an instant, she felt herself floating at the suface of that lake - never changing - the pain never lessening. She withstood it for a time, for a little while she kept her mind together through the pain. But now... it was just too much.

Suddenly, she was back with Alester - but not on the London street. She was with him in a church. The church in which she brought him back to life.

"You murdered me to make your point, Isabel. And now you have gathered half the forces of Earth, and most of the strength of Asgard to free yourself." Alester sighed. He had composed himself, and was now looking at her memory of his own corpse laying on the alter. The frozen figures of the Avengers stood around her, even Loki himself.

"You can not possibly love that wretch," Alester clipped bitterly, glaring at Loki's frozen form.

"I don't know," she laughed lightly. "He makes no false overtures at me, for that I respect him. But I cannot help but wonder - you did not spite him hard enough for him to struggle against you so for the sake of defeating you at your own game. So why does he try so hard to find me?"

"He may care for you, in his own hollow way," Alester turned to stand in front of her again, and picked up one of her hands to place her palm against his cheek. "You are going to leave me..."

"Yes," she said, barely above a whisper.

Alester lowered his head, letting out a wavering breath. "I will hold on to the hope that... some day, you may forgive me."

"I will do the same," Isabel smiled faintly. "For I do believe that if I forgive you, I could love you..."

"But, what is truly a shame," Alester lifted his head again to meet her eyes - hazel to nearly white - "Is I will never hear a word of this."

"What?" Isabel narrowed her eyes just slightly.

Alester smiled a faint, sad smile, and placed both of his hands against her shoulders, his thumbs resting idly against her neck. "You are beyond even my reach_. _Your mind is trapped. I am only a memory... a dream of the man you know as Alester. Your own mind and memories... entertaining yourself. Convincing yourself to forgive Alester." He began to laugh.

She threw herself away from him. She thrust herself back into that awful, frozen lake, and cried out in the searing pain as it flooded her mind. Did she cry out? Or didn't she. It was so hard to know anymore.

She wished for oblivion.

* * *

Loki was seven crypts in when he stopped to pull the gem out of his pocket. He did not wear it - he didn't know why, perhaps he didn't feel the need. Or perhaps it was too... intimate a gesture for something that was so damnably irritating.

"Tell me something, Gem,"

**Oooh, now we want to talk, do we? 'Shut up, will you shut up, stop your bantering,' blaaah blah... Now you want to chit-chat.**

Loki felt the corner of his eye twitch. "Is she too far gone? She has only been trapped for two months time..."

**Look, Hunny, I don't think you understand what's happened to her. What happened to her is like being chucked into a volcano. You don't just fall 'a little bit' into a volcano. Chuck a person in for two seconds, chuck a person in for two months, the damage is the same. There aren't matters of degrees here. It's binary. Either you get trapped between life and death, or you don't. Seven minutes, seven years, seven millenium, you've still been thrown into a goddamn volcano. She's removed from her own time. **

"So the damage is done," Loki gripped the chain harder, for no reason than that he had nothing else to vent his frustration on.

**Yup. Sucks, too... we liked her. **

"Help me find her, please," he said quietly.

**Why do you care so much? We've been wondering that.**

"I simply _do,_" Loki replied. "I do not wish to spend useless time and energy debating where it comes from."

**You might not listen to us - most people don't - but we've seen every soul to ever live and die. We've seen their stories, their pains, their deaths and their triumphs. We know a teeeeeeeeeeeeeeensy bit about things like this. There is nothing to be gained by pushing away all affection for the simple sake of dignity. You are not lessening yourself by letting yourself ****_feel, _****you nimrod.**

"I don't-" Loki started to defend himself.

**Oh yeah, yeah, fine, fine. Blah Blah Blah You're Tough Shit, we've seen it all come and go, champ. Fine. Either you're too prideful to let yourself feel attachment for other living things, or the other options are worse. **

"What, _exactly,_ are the other options?!" he snapped.

**Either you're too afraid, or too lazy to deal with The Feels. We're voting on too afraid. Well, the majority votes on too afraid. About fifteen percent of us have money down on lazy. But odds say you're chicken.**

"I am not _afraid_, you belligerent paper-weight!" he shouted at the necklace - partially aware of how ridiculous he must look right now. He was very happy that they had split up to cover more ground.

**Yeah, 'cuz, you clearly like being alone, being all Angry Stompy Face by your onesies. Riiight. Look, hunny, the devil himself has a girlfriend. ... Couple of them, but, it's an arrangement. Okay. Bad example. Look, hunny, even ****_Alester_**** can let himself love and have friends. What's your beef? What the hell are you afraid of?**

"_I am not afraid!" _Loki howled, throwing the stone violently against the wall. It clattered uselessly to the ground. He stood there, breathing heavily, his fists clenched into balls. He threw his spear through another stone wall in his fit, and dragged a stone angel from its pedestal watching it shatter against the ground. The rest of the room met a similar fate - soon the floor of the tomb was littered with rubble.

He let out a wavering breath, and shut his eyes. This was useless. But, yet, somehow cathartic. He walked over to the stone, and picked it up off the floor. He had apparently interrupted it in mid-sentence.

**-and he like totally went house on - Oh. Hey. You're back.**

"I do not fear affection," he hissed down at the stone. "No one has proven worthy of my time."

**Ooooook... sure... let's go with that. So... follow up question. ... Is Isabel worthy...?**

"I have yet to decide, but... perhaps. It is promising..." Loki turned from the tomb and walked up the stairs. He felt somewhat calmer, now that he had caused significant property damage. "If she is salvageable."

**You're messed up in the head, if we do say so ourselves... And we do. We're a pretty good judge. **

Loki tuned out the stone as he went back above ground. "And if I did love her, what then, stone? Would this quest be more _valiant, _then? The act is the same - regardless of intentions."

"Such preposterous statements, even from you, Loki," he heard from behind him. Whirling, he was caught off guard as his feet left the ground - something impacted him with such an abrupt violence that he crashed through several trees and a statue before finally rolling to a stop in the center of a pathway. He groaned in pain, and pushed himself up to his feet slowly, brushing the dust of the stone off his shoulder.

"I am getting very, very ill-amused by your method of greeting me, Alester Solomon," Loki turned his eyes to the other man who stood atop a stone, balancing with inhuman grace on the top of the cross that decorated the top of the monument.

**Yup. Dramatic asshole. Always gotta make an entrance, that one.**

"I am sorry to say that I simply enjoy causing you pain," Alester shrugged. "I watched your efforts for some time, here - you and the others - in hopes that you would simply become bored and leave..."

"But we are reaching our goal, then, aren't we?" Loki smirked.

"Yes. Until I kill you. Then, I think, it might reset the odds."

"You will have a hard time of that, demon!" Thor shouted as he rocketed from the darkness, slamming into Alester, Mjolnir-first, and sending Alester crashing into a tomb.

"For once, I think I am grateful for your presence, brother," Loki sneered.

**See? Is that so hard? ****No laws against sarcasm here, champ.**

Loki ignored the stone - did not have time to respond either - as the hole in the tomb exploded in a flurry of those strange, golden winged souls that Alester comprised of. Battle then was a flurry - he struck down as many as he could - but their claws were sharp. Thor was suffering similarly - making headway, but slashing against a swarm of bees with a hammer and staff are useless attempts.

"That's it! I have had _enough_ of this stupid _bullshit!" _Fury shouted.

Two gods and a demon came to a halt in the face of his rage. Alester took shape, in the center of the path, looking at Fury with a smile on his face. Loki wiped the blood from his neck where one of the claws had slashed him. He had not noticed, but at some point Natasha and Iron Man had joined the fray.

"Oh, yes, indeed," Alester said, a sadistic twinge to his voice. "I defeated the mad titan Thanos - what chance do you think you _possibly could stand _against the likes of me?!"

"None," Fury said dismissively. "Any one of you motherfuckers here could blow my head off at any given point in time. Fact is, you _don't._ You want to. God damn, you want to. But nobody's done it yet. You wanna know why?"

"Pray tell," Alester replied smoothly.

"Because every single one of you knows that if I go down, all unholy _hell _will rain down on you from sources you don't even know _exist._ I'm just the face of this fuckin' organization. Yeah, they might not be able to stop you, Alester, but you sure as hell better bet they're going to make your life _miserable._ Besides, aren't you supposed to be the _benevolent _one here or some shit?!" Fury finished his rant, slamming his gun back in his holster.

Alester clenched his fists, and then slowly let them relax. "I will not kill you, Director Fury. I will not kill Tony Stark, the God of Thunder, or Ms. Romanov. You are all essential in the protection of this world I love so very dearly... To wound you, is to wound this world, I will not have it. But there is _nothing, _indeed _not one thing in this realm or otherwise_ stopping me from rendering Loki to _pieces!"_ Alester shouted and there was a blur of movement. And with that, Loki's world... just rather... shifted.

* * *

Natasha jumped backwards as Loki was slammed against a large tree by a dozen angry looking golden spears. They were really nothing more than sharpened points, really - they ran straight through him and through the tree behind him. Loki coughed, and gurgled - but a spear went through his neck, straight through. Only blood oozed from his mouth.

_"Brother!_" Thor shouted, and flew at Alester where he stood. Alester couldn't seem to have cared less - grabbing Mjolnir mid-swing, and looking at Thor with a bored expression.

"Mourn him. That is all you have left to do." Alester gestured, and threw Mjolnir - Thor attached - a good hundred feet away.

Natasha had her gun drawn, pointed straight at Alester. He turned to look at her, and sighed. "You do not honestly believe that will do any good against me," he said idly.

"Nope. It's just kind of reflexive."

"A 'safety blanket.'"

"With bullets."

Alester laughed quietly. "I enjoy you, and your blunt wit, my lady."

"Yeah, thanks," she replied, narrowing her eyes. Thor couldn't stop him - the God of Thunder, now deciding that fighting Alester was useless, was now trying to pull the golden spears from the tree and rescue Loki. They wouldn't budge.

Natasha sighed. She was out-gunned in every fight she had ever set foot in. She was never on the right side of the odds. But that wasn't her gift. She holstered her gun, and crossed her arms in front of her chest, looking at Alester with the expression of a bored schoolteacher. "So this is how you win, huh? Kill your girlfriend's boyfriend?"

Alester tilted his head to the side, and seemed to think it over for a moment. "Actually, yes."

"So... you... bury her alive... and then kill the guy leading the efforts trying to save her. That's a great way to go about winning her heart." Natasha sighed. "You men are lousy at this stuff. Doesn't matter how old or how epic you all are - you're all idiots."

"Oh? Do tell. How better to go about this?" Alester turned to her now, half angry, half curious. The man wore his expressions on the suface - he was an easy mark. This wasn't even a challenge.

"I'd start with just _letting her go,_ for one." Natasha shrugged. "But call me old fashioned - being buried alive isn't exactly romantic by my standards. Trust me, been there, done that." She blanched. "And I was only in there for three minutes."

"Well, she is to be freed this evening, regardless. You are all bound to find her eventually," Alester sighed, and straightened the edge of his black wool great-coat, looking out over the cemetery with a faint twinge of regret on his face. "I am not proud of my actions, I tend to lash out in a heat of rage."

"And killing Loki is going to be on that list, you know, of 'regrets in the heat of rage,'" Natasha sighed. "Let me set this straight - I don't like Loki. I'm glad he's suffering. But you don't want to be the one to kill him."

"Why not?"

"Asgard."

"They will bear him no loyalty," Alester chuckled once.

"Oh? Look at Thor. Thor's the heir to the throne. You don't think they're going to come, pissed as hell, to find the one who offed their son? Adopted or not?" Natasha shrugged. "And it's worse for you if you let him die. Isabel will think you did it just because you wanted to make sure they never hooked up."

"I think that is my intention, yes," Alester narrowed an eye at her. "I fail to see the detriment in the plan."

Natasha sighed. "You can't go murdering her love interests, Alester, for the same reasons you can't go _burying her alive._" She shook her head, and changed her tone as if she was talking to a child. It seemed to be working so far. "She killed you to free herself. What do you do? You bury her alive. Now you kill her potential boyfriend. You have to stop _meddling_, you idiot. Let her make her damn choices, and maybe, just maybe, she _might choose you._"

Alester let out a sad, broken laugh - it was a cruel laugh - but it was directed in at himself. And that is when she knew she had him. "She will never forgive me for what I have done," he finished.

"How do you know, if you never give her the chance to try?"

And, bam. That's why she got paid the big bucks.

Alester winced in pain, and let out a sigh. With a flick of his hand, the golden spears that pinned Loki to the tree disolved into those fucked up golden winged souls, and they returned to him - disappearing into him like they were just projections from somewhere. She hated those things.

Loki slumped to the ground, letting out a gurgling cough, collapsing into a heap. Alester turned, and threw Thor away from his brother's collapsed body, as Alester crouched down and picked up Loki by the collar of his leather armor.

"Listen to me, you pathetic mongrel of a god," he snarled into Loki's semi-conscious face. "If my sin is lust, then yours is pride. You are incapable of _love itself. _You are a rabid stray, biting at the hands that try to help you - and when you finally come around, and whine for scraps - there will be no one there. You are a hollow, pathetic, shroud of a broken soul... and you are destined for nothing but pain for you and those around you. You will tire of her in time... Win her love, and then when you discard her - not now, not perhaps for thousands of years... but when you toss her aside... I will be there to pick up the pieces... And when I do - when this world has forgotten your name, Loki The Unwelcome... I will make you suffer wounds the likes you can only imagine..."

Alester stood up slowly, and held out his hand. A long golden spear appeared - and for a moment Natasha thought she had failed, and that he was going to lop off Loki's head - but he threw it - it sailed into the darkness, and she heard the sound of rubble. "There. You will find her there."

And with that, Alester was gone.

"Stark - get Isabel."

"On it," Stark replied as he fired the thrusters - taking off into the graveyard after Isabel. This left Natasha, Fury, Thor, and... what was left of Loki.

"Good one," Fury said her to her quietly.

"Thanks," she replied, and shrugged idly. "He was easy."

"Sure," Fury said with a laugh. "Easy for you."

"Meh," Natasha smiled at the rare compliment. They were looking at Loki, who was now being loaded onto a stretcher by some S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, who had been waiting on the jet for this moment. Natasha hoped they brought two stretchers. "Think he'll live?"

"I don't think we'd be so lucky that he'd die," Fury grumbled, and shoved his hands into his pockets, walking away towards the quinjet.

Natasha looked after her boss and sighed. If she was good at playing a situation - Fury was good at pretending like they never happened. She wished she could trade with him... God knows she was going to lose sleep over this one.


	21. Chapter 21

Hi All! I apologize deeply for the long lapse in posting. My job has kind of gone nuts, and I've been working a lot of long hours. But, here you go! Also - for those of you who have asked me if I've written anything else, yes, I do have a book published up on Amazon Kindle. You can find the link in my profile. And without further ado...

* * *

Loki was dying.

Or, well, that was what he assumed was happening. He couldn't fathom a guess as to what else it could be. He knew he was just... very cold.

The last thing he remembered was arguing with Alester about Isabel - and then pain. But, luckily, his body shut down long before the pain became severe enough to be overburdening. Or, maybe that wasn't lucky at all. It was hard for him to tell, in this fuzzy netherrealm of his mind.

Thoughts echoed, shattered glimpses of memories. _'When this world forgets your name, Loki the Unwelcome... I will make you suffer wounds the likes you can only imagine...' _Alester's parting threat. His voice echoed in Loki's mind, along with a much more sarcastic voice, that of the stone.

**Look what you've gone and done to yourself, pooky. You're all fugged up.**

_'You are a rabid stray, biting at the hands that try to help you - and when you finally come around, and whine for scraps - there will be no one there.'_

Loki fought against the memories, fought to wake up. But it was like swinging at spiderwebs - your target was never really clear. The cold was worse than it was before - the harder he struggled, the more the cold bit into his very core. Then, he was loathe to admit, fear took over. Was he truly dying? He struggled harder, trying to fight the coldness that seeped into him, trying to pull himself above it.

But it was to no avail. The water was rising.

Why did that sound familiar?

But then, something took hold of him. Something cold - a hand - took him by the wrist.

"What are you doing here?"

Loki coughed, and whirled, and almost struck what was holding him - but stopped. It was Isabel. Or, at least, he assumed it was. She was ghastly - as if someone had painted her pure white, save for her dark hair. Her skin, her lips, everything was shades of white and grey, her oddly white eyes now matching the rest of her. She had a stoic expression on her face, indeed, she had no emotion on her at all. But she looked as if she was the living dead. _If she is alive at all,_ he reminded himself.

"You are not meant to be here, Loki," she spoke again. Her voice was soft, but not pained. Just... empty.

"Isabel...?" Loki asked, confused. He turned his head to take stock of his location and... sorely wished he hadn't.

He stood upon a black surface - the reflection shining in the light like onyx, or the purest black pool within a deep cave. The surface shone back a light that he could not locate. But it was not the surface that they now stood upon that alarmed him, but the figures that dwelled just beneath its surface. Humans... Asgardians, Vanir, Elves, the like... he could see them all - appearing just beneath the surface and then sinking slowly into the depths beyond, fading out of sight. They were all pale and ghastly as she was. It slowly dawned on him what he was looking at - these were the dead. The souls of the dead crossing from life to death. He stood upon the gateway to death itself.

"I think so," she finally replied to his question. "I haven't lost that, yet, at least..."

Loki stammered for a moment, uselessly. He tried to force some composure over himself - although, if there was a time where his demeanor was likely allowed to crack at the edges, it would be standing at the gates to death. He tried to pull his wrist out of her cold grasp, but she squeezed harder and shook her head.

"If I let go, you'll go down with the others," she said.

Loki clenched his jaw. So he _was _dying. Although he suspected his guess was correct, he felt the need to ask. "Where are we?"

"Out there, somewhere... The both of us. I felt you... I think I did. This might... this might be a dream, I'm not sure... It's hard to tell anymore." She furrowed her brow a bit at that - the first expression he saw on her face since he awoke here.

"This is very real, I can assure you..."

"That is what you said last time, Loki, and you weren't. So I can't really believe you."

"Last time...?"

"I don't know. It's... I don't know where I am, Loki, and... I keep dreaming..." The look on her face was suddenly so distraught that he reached out to stroke her hair back slowly without having realized he had made the motion. He placed his palm against her cheek, and tried not to recoil at the temperature of her skin. She was like ice. _You are Jotun, Boy, this should not phase you._ He scolded himself. Although this was a different nature of 'cold.' This was not of temperature, this was of... lack of life.

"So you are out there, somewhere...?"

"Have been for... a while, I think."

"Two months," he replied.

"That's all?" She laughed faintly.

"We found you... We've come to take you home. Alester buried you alive, but you will be out of this soon."

"I don't know if it matters anymore."

"No, you listen to me," Loki became angry all of a sudden, and turned her face up to him - with her pale eyes and skin he truly felt like he was reprimanding a corpse. "I have not gone through all this trouble and pain for you to simply _let go_, Isabel. You _will _wake up,_ do you understand me?"_

Isabel smiled faintly, and she chuckled low. "You are damnably attractive when you're angry, do you know that?"

Loki blinked, confused. "Now is not the time for-"

"You've lectured me a few times now, I think..."

"No, I haven't, I'm-"

"Oh." She sighed. "It's time for you to go."

Loki felt fear grip him. He didn't want to die. He didn't-

Heat rushed his body, and he felt himself be torn away. Burning pain seared through him, and he screamed.

* * *

Natasha had never seen a man struggle so hard as Loki just did, even for a nearly-dead son of a bitch. The man was now being pinned down to a cot by both Thor and Captain America, both of whom looked like they were doing their best, and yet were losing the battle.

"Brother, calm thyself!" Thor shouted into Loki's face. The God of Lies eyes were now open, staring unseeing up at Thor. Loki's body stilled, his eyes slowly shutting as the man lapsed back into unconsciousness.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief - none more so than the doctor who had just been working on stitching up one of Loki's wounds. The man's expression read every part of the phrase - 'I'm not paid well enough for this shit.'

"I still say we should have let the asshole die," Stark said from where he was leaning, unconcerned against the wall. "No big loss on anyone's part if he did."

"Watch your words," Thor snarled. "We are allies, Tony Stark, and I call you friend - but he is my brother. And he has paid his dues fo rhis crimes against your _people_-"

"And what about the people that paid with their lives?! Huh?! As far as I'm concerned there is no way he can pay for the damage he's done, and sooner or later, he's going to go nuts and do it _again. _What then, bub?!"

"He will not," Thor growled angrily.

"Are you so damn sure? Christ you're naive," Stark snorted, poking Thor in the chest, which didn't help the bigger man's level of anger.

Natasha sighed and walked around the medical cot, stepping in between them and pushing them apart. She shot daggers at both of them. "Now isn't the time, boys."

"I think now's the perfect time. I say we stop trying to stitch him up, and-"

"Out," Natasha snapped.

Tony blinked, and opened his mouth to speak again. She gave him 'the look,' and Tony slowly shut his eyes, but his eyes clouded over with anger. "Fine," he responded and turned on his heel to leave.

Thor's shoulders slumped, and he ran both of his hands over his face. "I will forever deal with such things, I fear."

"Probably. We don't pick our family," Natasha replied, and put her hand on his arm. "You also can't always make up for Loki's crimes."

"He has done nothing wrong," he began, paused, and added a quick adendum to the statement. "Lately."

"He's trying to do right by Isabel, at least, even though it's for his own motives. That's something. Maybe she'll be good for him," Natasha shrugged. "Women usually are." She smirked at him, reminding him of his own Midgardian girlfriend.

Thor sighed, and shook his head. "Aye." He turned, and walked back up to the bedside where Loki lay. The doctors had wanted to hook him up to their usual battery of machines, but Thor had insisted that any such things would only harm Loki and interfere with his own healing process. Natasha wasn't quite sure of that - as Loki had stopped breathing - his heart had stopped - for a good solid five minutes. Long enough for any human to have been easily brain dead. But, he wasn't human. He was a 'God.' Natasha sighed. She wanted all these people to go back to their Saturday morning cartoon shows. It'd make her life a lot easier if they did. She liked Thor - she liked him a great deal - but it was everything he brought with him that was the problem.

"You almost lost him there for a second, huh," she said.

"No, I did. He died. He should not have come back from that," Thor said thoughtfully, tapping a thick finger against the railing of the medical cot. "I think something may have interfered."

Natasha shut her eyes and shook her head. She didn't need to think too hard about who would have stopped Loki from dying. There were only about two people in the universe that cared enough to try. One was standing in front of her, and the other should be in a body bag in the morgue at this point.

Natasha was trying not to think about Isabel and the state that she was in - she was a corpse in a hospital bed. Fury wanted to 'bag and tag' her, but Isabel had made Natasha make a promise, a long while back when Isabel brought Stark back from the dead. _'Don't let them put me in a body bag. I hate waking up in a body bag,' _she had asked. And, damnit, Natasha kept her promises. Even to freaks.

Natasha walked out of the room, and laughed inwardly. No. One is even more careful to keep your promises to freaks. _Especially_ when they can bring you back from the dead. Or keep you from going there at all...

* * *

Isabel was no longer floating in the lake - but she didn't feel any warmer. She found herself sitting on a shoreline, of sorts. The sand was black, and she was sitting on a large rock, looking out at the black, onyx-shining surface of the lake she had been floating in. She thought so, anyway. It was hard to keep track of these things.

"Rather literal of you, my love, is it not?"

She didn't turn her head. She knew the voice well enough. "You are a figment of my mind, Alester, you can go away now," she replied. "I am done arguing with ghosts."

"You dreamt of me... I am flattered. Likely in your nightmares." She felt him sit down on the rock next to her. "But I am no ghost. They have taken you from the crypt in which I entombed you - and your mind is no longer beyond my reach."

She sat in silence, not responding, just looking out a the lake.

"You do not believe me. Very well - you do not see any figures in the lake anymore, do you not?"

"No."

"And do you know why?" He asked, in that same 'I'm teaching you' voice that he took so very often with her. It once annoyed her, but now she inured to it.

"No."

"Because this place is your creation. Even the lake is your mind struggling to create a visual environment for itself... You were never on any lake. You are not on any shore. You are simply creating the world in which you believe you are in. Your mind has taken the information it was given - that you were on the threshold between life and death - and created a lake. Now, your mind knows that you re no longer lingering at the gateway, but instead have been removed _from _it, and it conjures a shoreline to your lake."

"Charming," she replied simply.

They sat like that, next to each other, for some time in silence. She didn't want to talk to him - because it was slowly becoming apparent that he was 'real.' The Alester she knew in her dreams would not sit silently. He loved the sound of his voice too much.

"I have come to say goodbye."

And that is when she _knew_ he was real.

Isabel turned to look at him, shocked. "What..?"

Alester was not looking at her - instead, his gaze was turned out at the lake, sadness etched across him. "You are free of me, as you have always wished. I will leave you be... You will never see me again unless you, against all odds, decide to seek me out."

"Why?"

Alester stood up, and kept his back to her, still looking out at the lake. "If I leave you be, perhaps someday you will come to forgive me. For all my struggles to make you love me, all I do is drive you further away."

"You buried me alive."

"Not my brightest moment."

Isabel shut her eyes - and began to laugh. She couldn't help it - the situation was a farce. But, too soon, the emotions welled up in her, and she was crying, even though laughter still burst from her.

She felt him settle down onto his knees in front of her. His hands settled onto her shoulders, thumbs lighting grazing her neck on either side. She reached out, and cupped his face in her hands, and rested her forehead against his. She stayed like this for some time, taking comfort in his presence - in only because she had spent so much time alone and frozen in that lake.

"Do you think you will ever love me..?" he whispered. She opened her eyes, and saw she was not the only one shedding tears. His eyes were shut.

"Part of me has always loved you," she said quietly. "But it was so tampered down by fear and imprisonment it was never allowed to bloom. Allow me my freedom, Alester, my _true_ freedom, and I cannot say what will happen. I must first forgive you for what you've done..."

"Do you think you could ever forgive me?"

"We're both immortal. At least we have plenty of time."

That brought a laugh out of him, and he opened his eyes. He kissed her, then, and she allowed it. She didn't fight him as he ran his hands through her hair slowly as he broke off the kiss.

"Until then, my love."

"Until then," she responded.

And he was gone.

And she was alone again.

* * *

Loki limped into the room in which they had left Isabel. The doctors had long since left her be - deciding that she was, in fact, a corpse. She had lain like this for three weeks time while he mended himself. The reasons Fury had not overridden the protests of Natasha and 'Captain America' and had her bagged and put in the morgue were twofold. One, they had not gone through all the trouble of pulling her from a crypt only to put her back in, and two, she was not rotting. So there was something else at play.

And he knew what it was.

He limped over to the edge of the bed and sat down on it, looking down at her lifeless form. Alester had left him in a bad state - the worst he had ever found himself, he would admit. By all accounts, he should be dead - and he knew why he wasn't. Because she had stopped him before he sunk through that lake, before he passed over the threshold.

**Ooo man, she looks rough.**

Loki winced again at the voice that spoke into his head. That damnable stone was still in his pocket. Fury had asked for it - but Loki pointed out that retrieving the _body_ of Isabel was not the full bargain. He would give Fury the stone only upon retrieval of Isabel - mind and all. Then started a rather philosophical, yet heated debate, about the definition of a 'whole person' by several parties in the room. Luckily he created a doppleganger of himself to take his place and left the room before he had the urge to throttle someone.

"She saved me," he said to the stone.

**Apparently. You were almost ours, you know. You die with us in your pocket, Pooky, and you're a snack for the ages. Just FYI. Nothing personal.**

Loki sighed. "Not like any other afterlife would be any better."

**Mm, true.**

He reached out and stroked a strand of hair away from her face. "How do I get her back?"

**Dunno. Not our area of expertise. We can tell you, though, that her soul is still in there. She hasn't left.**

Loki shut his eyes, and let his mind turn around itself for a long while. He was never one for brash action - that is where his brother excelled, not he. He was more skilled at approaching things with a careful mind - and so, he took the time to think. Unfortunately, he had few ideas on how best to bring her back. From what he remembered of his conversation with her upon the lake, her mind was in a sorry state - and no wonder, for what she had endured. But she was cognizant enough of her location and the entirety of the threshold to know that he was dying - and to save him. He opened his eyes, then, as the idea came to him. She was aware of him - she felt a bond towards him - and perhaps that was all that was needed.

Loki leaned forward, and put his lips close to her ear, and whispered. "Open your eyes and remember this. Open your eyes and remember... Open your eyes and remember what he's done."

The world seemed to pause as he hoped his theory was correct. Loki sat back as he felt something - and found she had followed his command. Her eyes were open, and for one solitary moment she seemed serene - until the pain came flooding in. She let out a breathless cry - her mouth opening to scream and had no air with which to do so. She thrashed, and he knew not what to do, save to hold her to him. He picked her up in his arms, and held her against his chest as she struggled - finally remembering how to fill her tortured lungs with air and let a small, strangled cry against him. "Ssshh..." he whispered into her ear again, holding her as he felt her struggles slowly turn to convulsions as her body was still wracked with obvious pain, her hand clutching the fabric of his tunic. "You are here with me now, you are safe..."

It wasn't long before her convulsions slowed, and stopped, but she still clutched to him. He looked down at her, and realized to his amazement she wasn't crying. He kept his arm around her, supporting her against him, and took the other hand to stroke her hair back away from her face. She was still chill to touch, but color was starting to touch her features again. She had returned.

"Isabel," he said quietly.

She opened her eyes - and he tried not to recoil. Her eyes were no longer simply colored white - they were completely white from edge to edge, the pupils were gone. She blinked once, twice, and her brow furrowed in confusion. "Loki?" she asked, her voice weak.

Fear tugged at his gut - and he begged for his instinct to be wrong. Damn the gods, let his instinct be wrong.

She opened her mouth to speak, paused, and said, confusion filling her voice. "I think I might be blind."


End file.
